This is a modern-English version of The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket: Comprising the details of a mutiny and atrocious butchery on board the American brig Grampus, on her way to the South Seas, in the month of June, 1827., originally written by Poe, Edgar Allan.
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THE NARRATIVE
OF
ARTHUR GORDON PYM.
OF NANTUCKET.
COMPRISING THE DETAILS OF A MUTINY AND ATROCIOUS BUTCHERY ON BOARD THE AMERICAN BRIG GRAMPUS, ON HER WAY TO THE SOUTH SEAS, IN THE MONTH OF JUNE, 1827.
WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE RECAPTURE OF THE VESSEL BY THE SURVIVERS; THEIR SHIPWRECK AND SUBSEQUENT HORRIBLE SUFFERINGS FROM FAMINE; THEIR DELIVERANCE BY MEANS OF THE BRITISH SCHOONER JANE GUY; THE BRIEF CRUISE OF THIS LATTER VESSEL IN THE ANTARCTIC OCEAN; HER CAPTURE, AND THE MASSACRE OF HER CREW AMONG A GROUP OF ISLANDS IN THE
EIGHTY-FOURTH PARALLEL OF SOUTHERN LATITUDE;
TOGETHER WITH THE INCREDIBLE ADVENTURES AND DISCOVERIES
STILL FARTHER SOUTH
TO WHICH THAT DISTRESSING CALAMITY GAVE RISE.
NEW-YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.
CHAPTERS | ||||
Preface | VI | XII | XVIII | XXIV |
I | VII | XIII | XIX | XXV |
II | VIII | XIV | XX | Note |
III | IX | XV | XXI | |
IV | X | XVI | XXII | |
V | XI | XVII | XXIII |
PREFACE.
Upon my return to the United States a few months ago, after the extraordinary series of adventure in the South Seas and elsewhere, of which an account is given in the following pages, accident threw me into the society of several gentlemen in Richmond, Va., who felt deep interest in all matters relating to the regions I had visited, and who were constantly urging it upon me, as a duty, to give my narrative to the public. I had several reasons, however, for declining to do so, some of which were of a nature altogether private, and concern no person but myself; others not so much so. One consideration which deterred me was, that, having kept no journal during a greater portion of the time in which I was absent, I feared I should not be able to write, from mere memory, a statement so minute and connected as to have the appearance of that truth it would really possess, barring only the natural and unavoidable exaggeration to which all of us are prone when detailing events which have had powerful influence in exciting the imaginative faculties. Another reason was, that the incidents to be narrated were of a nature so positively marvellous, that, unsupported as my assertions must necessarily be (except by the evidence of a single individual, and he a half-breed Indian), I could only hope for belief among my family, and those of my friends who have had reason, through life, to put faith in my veracity—the probability being that the public at large would regard what I should put forth as merely an impudent and ingenious fiction. A distrust in my own abilities as a writer was, nevertheless, one of the principal causes which prevented me from complying with the suggestions of my advisers.
A few months ago, when I returned to the United States after an amazing series of adventures in the South Seas and other places—details of which you'll find in the following pages—chance led me to meet several gentlemen in Richmond, VA. They had a strong interest in everything related to the places I had visited and constantly urged me to share my story with the public as a duty. However, I had a few reasons for declining, some of which were personal and only concerned me; others were more general. One thing that held me back was that, since I hadn’t kept a journal for most of my time away, I worried I wouldn’t be able to write a detailed and coherent account that genuinely reflected the truth, except for the natural exaggeration we all fall into when recalling events that stirred our imagination. Another issue was that the stories I had to tell were so incredible that, without support for my claims (other than the testimony of one person, a half-breed Indian), I could only hope that my family and friends, who have always trusted my honesty, would believe me. The public, on the other hand, would likely see what I wrote as nothing more than clever fiction. Additionally, my own doubts about my writing skills were one of the main reasons I didn’t follow my advisers' suggestions.
Among those gentlemen in Virginia who expressed the greatest interest in my statement, more particularly in regard to that portion of it which related to the Antarctic Ocean, was Mr. Poe, lately editor of the Southern Literary Messenger, a monthly magazine, published by Mr. Thomas W. White, in the city of Richmond. He strongly advised me, among others, to prepare at once a full account of what I had seen and undergone, and trust to the shrewdness and common sense of the public—insisting, with great plausibility, that however roughly, as regards mere authorship, my book should be got up, its very uncouthness, if there were any, would give it all the better chance of being received as truth.
Among the gentlemen in Virginia who showed the most interest in what I had to say, especially regarding the section about the Antarctic Ocean, was Mr. Poe, who was recently the editor of the Southern Literary Messenger, a monthly magazine published by Mr. Thomas W. White in Richmond. He strongly urged me, along with others, to quickly put together a complete account of what I had experienced and trust in the sharpness and common sense of the public—arguing convincingly that no matter how roughly my book was put together, any awkwardness in its presentation would actually increase its chances of being accepted as truth.
Notwithstanding this representation, I did not make up my mind to do as he suggested. He afterward proposed (finding that I would not stir in the matter) that I should allow him to draw up, in his own words, a narrative of the earlier portion of my adventures, from facts afforded by myself, publishing it in the Southern Messenger under the garb of fiction. To this, perceiving no objection, I consented, stipulating only that my real name should be retained. Two numbers of the pretended fiction appeared, consequently, in the Messenger for January and February (1837), and, in order that it might certainly be regarded as fiction, the name of Mr. Poe was affixed to the articles in the table of contents of the magazine.
Despite this suggestion, I didn't decide to follow his advice. He later proposed (since I wasn't going to take any action) that I let him write a story about the earlier parts of my adventures, based on the facts I provided, and publish it in the Southern Messenger as fiction. I didn't see any issues with this, so I agreed, only asking that my real name be kept. As a result, two installments of this supposed fiction were published in the Messenger for January and February (1837), and to ensure it was clearly seen as fiction, Mr. Poe's name was attached to the articles in the magazine's table of contents.
The manner in which this ruse was received has induced me at length to undertake a regular compilation and publication of the adventures in question; for I found that, in spite of the air of fable which had been so ingeniously thrown around that portion of my statement which appeared in the Messenger (without altering or distorting a single fact), the public were still not at all disposed to receive it as fable, and several letters were sent to Mr. P.'s address distinctly expressing a conviction to the contrary. I thence concluded that the facts of my narrative would prove of such a nature as to carry with them sufficient evidence of their own authenticity, and that I had consequently little to fear on the score of popular incredulity.
The way this ruse was received ultimately led me to compile and publish the adventures in question. I discovered that, despite the fanciful tone wrapped around that part of my statement which appeared in the Messenger (without changing or distorting a single fact), the public was still not inclined to view it as fiction, and several letters were sent to Mr. P.'s address clearly expressing the opposite belief. From this, I concluded that the facts of my story would be convincing enough to prove their authenticity, and that I had little to worry about regarding public disbelief.
This exposé being made, it will be seen at once how much of what follows I claim to be my own writing; and it will also be understood that no fact is misrepresented in the first few pages which were written by Mr. Poe. Even to those readers who have not seen the Messenger, it will be unnecessary to point out where his portion ends and my own commences; the difference in point of style will be readily perceived.
This exposé being presented, it will be clear right away how much of what follows I consider to be my own writing; and it will also be understood that no facts are misrepresented in the first few pages written by Mr. Poe. Even for those readers who haven't seen the Messenger, it won't be necessary to highlight where his part ends and mine begins; the difference in style will be easily noticeable.
New-York, July, 1838.
New York, July 1838.
OF
A. GORDON PYM.
My name is Arthur Gordon Pym. My father was a respectable trader in sea-stores at Nantucket, where I was born. My maternal grandfather was an attorney in good practice. He was fortunate in everything, and had speculated very successfully in stocks of the Edgarton New-Bank, as it was formerly called. By these and other means he had managed to lay by a tolerable sum of money. He was more attached to myself, I believe, than to any other person in the world, and I expected to inherit the most of his property at his death. He sent me, at six years of age, to the school of old Mr. Ricketts, a gentleman with only one arm, and of eccentric manners—he is well known to almost every person who has visited New Bedford. I stayed at his school until I was sixteen, when I left him for Mr. E. Ronald's academy on the hill. Here I became intimate with the son of Mr. Barnard, a sea captain, who generally sailed in the employ of Lloyd and Vredenburgh—Mr. Barnard is also very well known in New Bedford, and has many relations, I am certain, in Edgarton. His son was named Augustus, and he was nearly two years older than myself. He had been on a whaling voyage with his father in the John Donaldson, and was always talking to me of his adventures in the South Pacific Ocean. I used frequently to go home with him, and remain all day, and sometimes all night. We occupied the same bed, and he would be sure to keep me awake until almost light, telling me stories of the natives of the Island of Tinian, and other places he had visited in his travels. At last I could not help being interested in what he said, and by degrees I felt the greatest desire to go to sea. I owned a sail-boat called the Ariel, and worth about seventy-five dollars. She had a half-deck or cuddy, and was rigged sloop-fashion—I forget her tonnage, but she would hold ten persons without much crowding. In this boat we were in the habit of going on some of the maddest freaks in the world; and, when I now think of them, it appears to me a thousand wonders that I am alive to-day.
My name is Arthur Gordon Pym. My dad was a respectable trader in sea supplies in Nantucket, where I was born. My maternal grandfather was a well-known lawyer. He was successful in everything and had invested wisely in stocks of the Edgarton New-Bank, which is what it used to be called. Through this and other ventures, he managed to save a decent amount of money. I believe he cared for me more than anyone else in the world, and I expected to inherit most of his money when he passed away. At six years old, he sent me to the school of old Mr. Ricketts, a man with only one arm and quirky habits—he’s well known to nearly everyone who has been to New Bedford. I stayed at his school until I was sixteen, when I moved on to Mr. E. Ronald's academy on the hill. There, I became close friends with Mr. Barnard’s son, a sea captain who usually worked for Lloyd and Vredenburgh—Mr. Barnard is also quite famous in New Bedford and likely has many relatives in Edgarton. His son was named Augustus, and he was almost two years older than me. He had gone on a whaling trip with his father on the John Donaldson and would often share stories about his adventures in the South Pacific. I would frequently go home with him and spend the entire day, and sometimes the night. We shared a bed, and he always kept me awake until nearly dawn, telling me tales about the natives of the Island of Tinian and other places he had traveled to. Eventually, I couldn't help but get interested in what he said, and over time, I developed a strong desire to go to sea. I owned a sailboat called the Ariel, worth about seventy-five dollars. It had a half-deck or cuddy and was rigged like a sloop—I can’t recall its tonnage, but it could hold ten people comfortably. With this boat, we would often go on some of the craziest adventures imaginable, and when I think back on them now, it’s a miracle that I’m alive today.
I will relate one of these adventures by way of introduction to a longer and more momentous narrative. One night there was a party at Mr. Barnard's, and both Augustus and myself were not a little intoxicated towards the close of it. As usual, in such cases, I took part of his bed in preference to going home. He went to sleep, as I thought, very quietly (it being near one when the party broke up), and without saying a word on his favourite topic. It might have been half an hour from the time of our getting in bed, and I was just about falling into a doze, when he suddenly started up, and swore with a terrible oath that he would not go to sleep for any Arthur Pym in Christendom, when there was so glorious a breeze from the southwest. I never was so astonished in my life, not knowing what he intended, and thinking that the wines and liquors he had drunk had set him entirely beside himself. He proceeded to talk very coolly, however, saying he knew that I supposed him intoxicated, but that he was never more sober in his life. He was only tired, he added, of lying in bed on such a fine night like a dog, and was determined to get up and dress, and go out on a frolic with the boat. I can hardly tell what possessed me, but the words were no sooner out of his mouth than I felt a thrill of the greatest excitement and pleasure, and thought his mad idea one of the most delightful and most reasonable things in the world. It was blowing almost a gale, and the weather was very cold—it being late in October. I sprang out of bed, nevertheless, in a kind of ecstasy, and told him I was quite as brave as himself, and quite as tired as he was of lying in bed like a dog, and quite as ready for any fun or frolic as any Augustus Barnard in Nantucket.
I'll share one of these adventures as an introduction to a longer and more important story. One night, there was a party at Mr. Barnard's, and both Augustus and I were pretty drunk by the end of it. As usual in these situations, I chose to crash on his bed instead of heading home. He fell asleep, or so I thought, fairly quietly (it was nearly one when the party wrapped up) and without mentioning his favorite topic. About half an hour after we got into bed, just as I was starting to doze off, he suddenly sat up and swore with a fierce oath that he wouldn't go to sleep for any Arthur Pym in the world, considering there was such a beautiful breeze coming from the southwest. I was completely stunned, not sure what he meant, and thinking that all the drinks he'd had had driven him mad. But he then coolly explained that he knew I thought he was drunk, but he had never been more sober in his life. He was just tired of lying in bed on such a lovely night like a dog and was determined to get up, get dressed, and go out for some fun on the boat. I can hardly explain why, but the moment he said that, I felt an incredible rush of excitement and pleasure, thinking his crazy idea was one of the most wonderful and logical things ever. It was almost gale-force winds, and it was really cold—it being late in October. Still, I jumped out of bed in a sort of ecstasy and told him I was just as brave as he was, just as tired of lying in bed like a dog, and just as ready for any fun or adventure as any Augustus Barnard in Nantucket.
We lost no time in getting on our clothes and hurrying down to the boat. She was lying at the old decayed wharf by the lumber-yard of Pankey & Co., and almost thumping her sides out against the rough logs. Augustus got into her and bailed her, for she was nearly half full of water. This being done, we hoisted jib and mainsail, kept full, and started boldly out to sea.
We quickly got dressed and rushed down to the boat. She was at the rundown wharf by the Pankey & Co. lumber yard, nearly banging her sides against the rough logs. Augustus climbed in and bailed her out since she was almost half full of water. Once that was taken care of, we hoisted the jib and mainsail, keeping them full, and set off confidently out to sea.
The wind, as I before said, blew freshly from the southwest. The night was very clear and cold. Augustus had taken the helm, and I stationed myself by the mast, on the deck of the cuddy. We flew along at a great rate—neither of us having said a word since casting loose from the wharf. I now asked my companion what course he intended to steer, and what time he thought it probable we should get back. He whistled for a few minutes, and then said crustily, "I am going to sea—you may go home if you think proper." Turning my eyes upon him, I perceived at once that, in spite of his assumed nonchalance, he was greatly agitated. I could see him distinctly by the light of the moon—his face was paler than any marble, and his hand shook so excessively that he could scarcely retain hold of the tiller. I found that something had gone wrong, and became seriously alarmed. At this period I knew little about the management of a boat, and was now depending entirely upon the nautical skill of my friend. The wind, too, had suddenly increased, as we were fast getting out of the lee of the land—still I was ashamed to betray any trepidation, and for almost half an hour maintained a resolute silence. I could stand it no longer, however, and spoke to Augustus about the propriety of turning back. As before, it was nearly a minute before he made answer, or took any notice of my suggestion. "By-and-by," said he at length—"time enough—home by-and-by." I had expected a similar reply, but there was something in the tone of these words which filled me with an indescribable feeling of dread. I again looked at the speaker attentively. His lips were perfectly livid, and his knees shook so violently together that he seemed scarcely able to stand. "For God's sake, Augustus," I screamed, now heartily frightened, "what ails you?—what is the matter?—what are you going to do?" "Matter!" he stammered, in the greatest apparent surprise, letting go the tiller at the same moment, and falling forward into the bottom of the boat—"matter!—why, nothing is the—matter—going home—d—d—don't you see?" The whole truth now flashed upon me. I flew to him and raised him up. He was drunk—beastly drunk—he could no longer either stand, speak, or see. His eyes were perfectly glazed; and as I let him go in the extremity of my despair, he rolled like a mere log into the bilge-water from which I had lifted him. It was evident that, during the evening, he had drunk far more than I suspected, and that his conduct in bed had been the result of a highly-concentrated state of intoxication—a state which, like madness, frequently enables the victim to imitate the outward demeanour of one in perfect possession of his senses. The coolness of the night air, however, had had its usual effect—the mental energy began to yield before its influence—and the confused perception which he no doubt then had of his perilous situation had assisted in hastening the catastrophe. He was now thoroughly insensible, and there was no probability that he would be otherwise for many hours.
The wind, as I mentioned earlier, blew briskly from the southwest. The night was very clear and cold. Augustus had taken the helm, and I stood by the mast on the deck of the cabin. We sped along quickly—neither of us had said a word since leaving the dock. I asked my companion what course he intended to take and what time he thought we would be back. He whistled for a few minutes and then replied sharply, "I’m going to sea—you can go home if you want." Looking at him, I could tell that despite his casual demeanor, he was quite agitated. I could see him clearly in the moonlight—his face was paler than marble, and his hand shook so much that he could barely hold onto the tiller. I realized something was wrong and became seriously worried. At that moment, I knew little about managing a boat and was relying completely on my friend's nautical skills. The wind had also suddenly picked up as we were quickly getting out of the shelter of the land—still, I was embarrassed to show any fear, and for almost half an hour, I kept a determined silence. However, I couldn’t hold it in any longer and mentioned to Augustus that perhaps we should turn back. As before, he took nearly a minute to respond or acknowledge my suggestion. "Later," he finally said, "plenty of time—home later." I expected a similar response, but there was something in the tone of his words that filled me with an indescribable dread. I studied him closely again. His lips were completely pale, and his knees shook violently as if he could hardly stand. "For God's sake, Augustus," I yelled, now genuinely scared, "what’s wrong with you?—what’s the matter?—what are you planning to do?" "Matter!" he stuttered, looking genuinely surprised, letting go of the tiller and falling forward into the bottom of the boat—"matter!—why, nothing—matter—going home—d—d—don’t you see?" The whole truth hit me then. I rushed to him and lifted him up. He was drunk—very drunk—he could no longer stand, speak, or see. His eyes were completely glazed; and as I finally let him go out of my sheer despair, he rolled like a log into the bilge water from which I had lifted him. It was clear that he had drunk much more throughout the evening than I had suspected, and his behavior in bed had been due to a deep state of intoxication—a state which, like madness, often allows a person to mimic the behavior of someone fully in control of their senses. The chill of the night air, however, had its usual effect—the mental clarity he had started with began to fade away—and the confused perception he must have had of his dangerous situation contributed to the catastrophe. He was now completely out of it, and there was no chance he would recover for many hours.
It is hardly possible to conceive the extremity of my terror. The fumes of the wine lately taken had evaporated, leaving me doubly timid and irresolute. I knew that I was altogether incapable of managing the boat, and that a fierce wind and strong ebb tide were hurrying us to destruction. A storm was evidently gathering behind us; we had neither compass nor provisions; and it was clear that, if we held our present course, we should be out of sight of land before daybreak. These thoughts, with a crowd of others equally fearful, flashed through my mind with a bewildering rapidity, and for some moments paralyzed me beyond the possibility of making any exertion. The boat was going through the water at a terrible rate—full before the wind—no reef in either jib or mainsail—running her bows completely under the foam. It was a thousand wonders she did not broach to—Augustus having let go the tiller, as I said before, and I being too much agitated to think of taking it myself. By good luck, however, she kept steady, and gradually I recovered some degree of presence of mind. Still the wind was increasing fearfully; and whenever we rose from a plunge forward, the sea behind fell combing over our counter, and deluged us with water. I was so utterly benumbed, too, in every limb, as to be nearly unconscious of sensation. At length I summoned up the resolution of despair, and rushing to the mainsail, let it go by the run. As might have been expected, it flew over the bows, and, getting drenched with water, carried away the mast short off by the board. This latter accident alone saved me from instant destruction. Under the jib only, I now boomed along before the wind, shipping heavy seas occasionally over the counter, but relieved from the terror of immediate death. I took the helm, and breathed with greater freedom as I found that there yet remained to us a chance of ultimate escape. Augustus still lay senseless in the bottom of the boat; and as there was imminent danger of his drowning (the water being nearly a foot deep just where he fell), I contrived to raise him partially up, and keep him in a sitting position, by passing a rope round his waist, and lashing it to a ringbolt in the deck of the cuddy. Having thus arranged everything as well as I could in my chilled and agitated condition, I recommended myself to God, and made up my mind to bear whatever might happen with all the fortitude in my power.
It’s almost impossible to imagine how scared I was. The effects of the wine I had just drunk had faded, leaving me feeling even more timid and uncertain. I realized that I couldn’t manage the boat at all, and the fierce wind and strong outgoing tide were dragging us toward disaster. A storm was clearly forming behind us; we had no compass or supplies, and it was obvious that if we stayed on our current course, we would be out of sight of land before dawn. These thoughts, along with a flood of equally terrifying ones, raced through my mind at lightning speed, leaving me paralyzed and unable to act. The boat was speeding through the water—being pushed hard by the wind—with no control in either the jib or mainsail, plunging her bow completely under the waves. It was a miracle she didn’t capsize—Augustus had let go of the tiller, as I mentioned before, and I was too shaken to think of taking over. Luckily, she stayed steady, and gradually I regained some composure. Still, the wind was picking up dangerously; and every time we surged forward, the sea came crashing over the back and doused us with water. I was so completely numb in every limb that I could barely feel anything. Finally, I found the determined desperation to act, and I rushed to the mainsail, letting it go completely. As expected, it flew over the front, got soaked, and snapped the mast off at the base. That mishap alone saved me from immediate danger. Now, under just the jib, I sped along in the wind, occasionally taking on heavy seas over the back, but relieved from the fear of instant death. I took the helm and felt a sense of freedom as I realized we still had a chance to escape. Augustus was still unconscious at the bottom of the boat, and there was a real risk he could drown (the water was nearly a foot deep where he fell), so I managed to lift him partially and keep him sitting up by tying a rope around his waist and securing it to a ringbolt on the deck. After arranging everything as best as I could despite being cold and shaken, I entrusted myself to God and prepared to face whatever might happen with as much courage as I could muster.
Hardly had I come to this resolution, when, suddenly, a loud and long scream or yell, as if from the throats of a thousand demons, seemed to pervade the whole atmosphere around and above the boat. Never while I live shall I forget the intense agony of terror I experienced at that moment. My hair stood erect on my head—I felt the blood congealing in my veins—my heart ceased utterly to beat, and without having once raised my eyes to learn the source of my alarm, I tumbled headlong and insensible upon the body of my fallen companion.
Hardly had I made this decision when, suddenly, a loud and chilling scream, like it was coming from a thousand demons, filled the air all around and above the boat. I will never forget the overwhelming terror I felt at that moment. My hair stood on end—I felt the blood freezing in my veins—my heart completely stopped beating, and without ever looking up to see what was causing my fear, I collapsed, unconscious, onto the body of my fallen friend.
I found myself, upon reviving, in the cabin of a large whaling-ship (the Penguin) bound to Nantucket. Several persons were standing over me, and Augustus, paler than death, was busily occupied in chafing my hands. Upon seeing me open my eyes, his exclamations of gratitude and joy excited alternate laughter and tears from the rough-looking personages who were present. The mystery of our being in existence was now soon explained. We had been run down by the whaling-ship, which was close hauled, beating up to Nantucket with every sail she could venture to set, and consequently running almost at right angles to our own course. Several men were on the look-out forward, but did not perceive our boat until it was an impossibility to avoid coming in contact—their shouts of warning upon seeing us were what so terribly alarmed me. The huge ship, I was told, rode immediately over us with as much ease as our own little vessel would have passed over a feather, and without the least perceptible impediment to her progress. Not a scream arose from the deck of the victim—there was a slight grating sound to be heard mingling with the roar of wind and water, as the frail bark which was swallowed up rubbed for a moment along the keel of her destroyer—but this was all. Thinking our boat (which it will be remembered was dismasted) some mere shell cut adrift as useless, the captain (Captain E. T. V. Block of New London) was for proceeding on his course without troubling himself further about the matter. Luckily, there were two of the look-out who swore positively to having seen some person at our helm, and represented the possibility of yet saving him. A discussion ensued, when Block grew angry, and, after a while, said that "it was no business of his to be eternally watching for egg-shells; that the ship should not put about for any such nonsense; and if there was a man run down, it was nobody's fault but his own—he might drown and be d——d," or some language to that effect. Henderson, the first mate, now took the matter up, being justly indignant, as well as the whole ship's crew, at a speech evincing so base a degree of heartless atrocity. He spoke plainly, seeing himself upheld by the men, told the captain he considered him a fit subject for the gallows, and that he would disobey his orders if he were hanged for it the moment he set his foot on shore. He strode aft, jostling Block (who turned very pale and made no answer) on one side, and seizing the helm, gave the word, in a firm voice, Hard-a-lee! The men flew to their posts, and the ship went cleverly about. All this had occupied nearly five minutes, and it was supposed to be hardly within the bounds of possibility that any individual could be saved—allowing any to have been on board the boat. Yet, as the reader has seen, both Augustus and myself were rescued; and our deliverance seemed to have been brought about by two of those almost inconceivable pieces of good fortune which are attributed by the wise and pious to the special interference of Providence.
I woke up in the cabin of a large whaling ship (the Penguin) headed to Nantucket. Several people were standing around me, and Augustus, looking pale as a ghost, was busy rubbing my hands. When he saw me open my eyes, his shouts of gratitude and joy made the rough-looking people present alternate between laughter and tears. The mystery of our existence was quickly explained. We had been run down by the whaling ship, which was sailing hard against the wind, trying to reach Nantucket with all the sails it could manage, and was therefore moving almost perpendicular to our own course. Several men were on lookout at the front, but they didn’t see our boat until it was too late to avoid hitting us—their shouts of alarm were what terrified me so much. I was told that the massive ship passed directly over us with the same ease as our little vessel would have floated over a feather, without any noticeable effect on her progress. Not a single scream came from the deck of the victim—only a slight grating noise could be heard, mixing with the roar of the wind and waves, as the fragile boat that got swallowed up scraped along the keel of her destroyer—but that was all. Assuming our boat (which, it should be noted, was dismasted) was just a useless shell, Captain E. T. V. Block of New London intended to continue on his way without further concern. Fortunately, two of the lookouts insisted they had seen someone at our helm and argued that there was a chance to save him. A heated discussion followed, during which Block got angry and eventually stated that "it wasn’t his job to keep an eye out for egg shells; the ship would not turn around for such nonsense; and if someone had been run down, it was nobody's fault but his own—he could drown and be damned," or something along those lines. Henderson, the first mate, took up the matter, justifiably outraged, along with the rest of the crew, at such a heartless remark. He spoke plainly, feeling supported by the men, telling the captain he considered him deserving of the gallows, and that he would disobey his orders, even if it got him hanged as soon as he set foot on shore. He strode to the back, bumping into Block (who turned pale and didn’t respond) and took the helm, firmly calling out, Hard-a-lee! The crew rushed to their positions, and the ship maneuvered skillfully. All this took nearly five minutes, and it seemed almost impossible that anyone could be saved—assuming anyone was still aboard the boat. Yet, as you’ve seen, both Augustus and I were rescued; and our deliverance felt like one of those unbelievable bits of good luck that wise and pious people attribute to the special intervention of Providence.
While the ship was yet in stays, the mate lowered the jolly-boat and jumped into her with the very two men, I believe, who spoke up as having seen me at the helm. They had just left the lee of the vessel (the moon still shining brightly) when she made a long and heavy roll to windward, and Henderson, at the same moment, starting up in his seat, bawled out to his crew to back water. He would say nothing else—repeating his cry impatiently, back water! back water! The men put back as speedily as possible; but by this time the ship had gone round, and gotten fully under headway, although all hands on board were making great exertions to take in sail. In despite of the danger of the attempt, the mate clung to the main-chains as soon as they came within his reach. Another huge lurch now brought the starboard side of the vessel out of water nearly as far as her keel, when the cause of his anxiety was rendered obvious enough. The body of a man was seen to be affixed in the most singular manner to the smooth and shining bottom (the Penguin was coppered and copper-fastened), and beating violently against it with every movement of the hull. After several ineffectual efforts, made during the lurches of the ship, and at the imminent risk of swamping the boat, I was finally disengaged from my perilous situation and taken on board—for the body proved to be my own. It appeared that one of the timber-bolts having started and broken a passage through the copper, it had arrested my progress as I passed under the ship, and fastened me in so extraordinary a manner to her bottom. The head of the bolt had made its way through the collar of the green baize jacket I had on, and through the back part of my neck, forcing itself out between two sinews and just below the right ear. I was immediately put to bed—although life seemed to be totally extinct. There was no surgeon on board. The captain, however, treated me with every attention—to make amends, I presume, in the eyes of his crew, for his atrocious behaviour in the previous portion of the adventure.
While the ship was still turning, the mate lowered the jolly-boat and jumped in with the same two men who had claimed to see me at the helm. They had just left the shelter of the vessel (with the moon shining brightly) when the ship rolled heavily to the windward side, and Henderson suddenly jumped up in his seat, shouting to his crew to back water. He wouldn't say anything else—repeating his command impatiently, back water! back water! The men paddled as quickly as they could; by that time, the ship had turned fully around and was moving fast, while everyone on board was working hard to take in the sails. Despite the danger, the mate clung to the main-chains as soon as they were within reach. Another massive lurch caused the starboard side of the vessel to lift out of the water nearly to the keel, making the source of his concern clear. A man's body was seen oddly attached to the smooth, shiny bottom (the Penguin was coppered and copper-fastened), thrashing against it with every movement of the hull. After several failed attempts during the ship’s lurches, and at great risk of capsizing the boat, I was finally freed from my dangerous position and brought on board—because the body turned out to be my own. It seemed that one of the timber bolts had come loose and pierced the copper, snagging me as I passed under the ship and securing me in such a strange way to her bottom. The head of the bolt had gone through the collar of the green baize jacket I was wearing and into the back of my neck, pushing its way out between two tendons just below my right ear. I was immediately put to bed—even though it felt like I had completely passed away. There was no surgeon on board, but the captain treated me with great care—probably to make up for his terrible behavior earlier in the adventure, in the eyes of his crew.
In the meantime, Henderson had again put off from the ship, although the wind was now blowing almost a hurricane. He had not been gone many minutes when he fell in with some fragments of our boat, and shortly afterward one of the men with him asserted that he could distinguish a cry for help at intervals amid the roaring of the tempest. This induced the hardy seamen to persevere in their search for more than half an hour, although repeated signals to return were made them by Captain Block, and although every moment on the water in so frail a boat was fraught to them with the most imminent and deadly peril. Indeed, it is nearly impossible to conceive how the small jolly they were in could have escaped destruction for a single instant. She was built, however, for the whaling service, and was fitted, as I have since had reason to believe, with air-boxes, in the manner of some life-boats used on the coast of Wales.
In the meantime, Henderson had pushed off from the ship again, even though the wind was now blowing almost like a hurricane. He hadn’t been gone long when he came across some pieces of our boat, and shortly after that, one of the men with him claimed he could hear a cry for help at intervals amid the roaring storm. This prompted the brave sailors to keep searching for more than half an hour, despite Captain Block repeatedly signaling them to return, and even though every moment on the water in such a fragile boat was extremely risky and dangerous for them. In fact, it’s nearly impossible to imagine how the small boat they were in could have avoided disaster for even a moment. However, it was built for whaling and, as I've since learned, was designed with air-boxes like some life-boats used on the coast of Wales.
After searching in vain for about the period of time just mentioned, it was determined to get back to the ship. They had scarcely made this resolve when a feeble cry arose from a dark object which floated rapidly by. They pursued and soon overtook it. It proved to be the entire deck of the Ariel's cuddy. Augustus was struggling near it, apparently in the last agonies. Upon getting hold of him it was found that he was attached by a rope to the floating timber. This rope, it will be remembered, I had myself tied round his waist, and made fast to a ringbolt, for the purpose of keeping him in an upright position, and my so doing, it appeared, had been ultimately the means of preserving his life. The Ariel was slightly put together, and in going down her frame naturally went to pieces; the deck of the cuddy, as might be expected, was lifted, by the force of the water rushing in, entirely from the main timbers, and floated (with other fragments, no doubt) to the surface—Augustus was buoyed up with it, and thus escaped a terrible death.
After searching in vain for about the time just mentioned, they decided to head back to the ship. They had barely made this decision when a weak cry came from a dark object floating rapidly by. They chased after it and soon caught up. It turned out to be the entire deck of the Ariel's cuddy. Augustus was struggling beside it, seemingly at death's door. When they grabbed him, they found he was tied by a rope to the floating timber. This rope, you might remember, I had tied around his waist and secured to a ringbolt to keep him upright, and it turned out that this act ultimately saved his life. The Ariel was poorly constructed, and as it sank, its frame naturally fell apart; the cuddy’s deck, as expected, was completely lifted away by the rush of water and floated to the surface along with other debris—Augustus was kept afloat by it, thus avoiding a terrible death.
It was more than an hour after being taken on board the Penguin before he could give any account of himself, or be made to comprehend the nature of the accident which had befallen our boat. At length he became thoroughly aroused, and spoke much of his sensations while in the water. Upon his first attaining any degree of consciousness, he found himself beneath the surface, whirling round and round with inconceivable rapidity, and with a rope wrapped in three or four folds tightly about his neck. In an instant afterward he felt himself going rapidly upward, when, his head striking violently against a hard substance, he again relapsed into insensibility. Upon once more reviving he was in fuller possession of his reason—this was still, however, in the greatest degree clouded and confused. He now knew that some accident had occurred, and that he was in the water, although his mouth was above the surface, and he could breathe with some freedom. Possibly, at this period, the deck was drifting rapidly before the wind, and drawing him after it, as he floated upon his back. Of course, as long as he could have retained this position, it would have been nearly impossible that he should be drowned. Presently a surge threw him directly athwart the deck; and this post he endeavoured to maintain, screaming at intervals for help. Just before he was discovered by Mr. Henderson, he had been obliged to relax his hold through exhaustion, and, falling into the sea, had given himself up for lost. During the whole period of his struggles he had not the faintest recollection of the Ariel, nor of any matters in connexion with the source of his disaster. A vague feeling of terror and despair had taken entire possession of his faculties. When he was finally picked up, every power of his mind had failed him; and, as before said, it was nearly an hour after getting on board the Penguin before he became fully aware of his condition. In regard to myself—I was resuscitated from a state bordering very nearly upon death (and after every other means had been tried in vain for three hours and a half) by vigorous friction with flannels bathed in hot oil—a proceeding suggested by Augustus. The wound in my neck, although of an ugly appearance, proved of little real consequence, and I soon recovered from its effects.
It was over an hour after being brought aboard the Penguin before he could explain what had happened to him or understand the accident that had occurred to our boat. Eventually, he became fully aware and talked a lot about what he felt while he was in the water. When he first became aware, he discovered he was underwater, spinning around with incredible speed, and had a rope wrapped tightly around his neck in three or four places. In an instant, he felt himself shooting up, but then his head hit something hard, and he lost consciousness again. When he regained consciousness, he had a clearer mind—though it was still quite foggy and disoriented. He realized that some kind of accident had happened and that he was in the water, even though his mouth was above the surface, allowing him to breathe somewhat freely. Maybe at that moment, the deck was drifting quickly with the wind, pulling him along as he floated on his back. As long as he could stay in that position, it would have been nearly impossible for him to drown. Soon, a wave tossed him onto the deck, and he tried to hold on while calling for help at intervals. Just before Mr. Henderson found him, he had to let go due to exhaustion and fell back into the sea, thinking he was lost. During all his struggles, he couldn’t remember anything about the Ariel or anything related to the cause of his disaster. A vague sense of fear and despair took complete control of him. When he was finally rescued, he felt mentally drained; as mentioned before, it took nearly an hour after getting on board the Penguin before he fully realized what had happened to him. As for me—I was brought back from a state very close to death (after all other efforts had failed for three and a half hours) through vigorous rubbing with flannels soaked in hot oil—a method suggested by Augustus. The wound on my neck, while looking quite bad, turned out to be of little real consequence, and I soon recovered from it.
The Penguin got into port about nine o'clock in the morning, after encountering one of the severest gales ever experienced off Nantucket. Both Augustus and myself managed to appear at Mr. Barnard's in time for breakfast—which, luckily, was somewhat late, owing to the party over night. I suppose all at the table were too much fatigued themselves to notice our jaded appearance—of course, it would not have borne a very rigid scrutiny. Schoolboys, however, can accomplish wonders in the way of deception, and I verily believe not one of our friends in Nantucket had the slightest suspicion that the terrible story told by some sailors in town of their having run down a vessel at sea and drowned some thirty or forty poor devils, had reference either to the Ariel, my companion, or myself. We two have since very frequently talked the matter over—but never without a shudder. In one of our conversations Augustus frankly confessed to me, that in his whole life he had at no time experienced so excruciating a sense of dismay, as when on board our little boat he first discovered the extent of his intoxication, and felt himself sinking beneath its influence.
The Penguin docked around nine in the morning after facing one of the worst storms ever felt off Nantucket. Both Augustus and I managed to arrive at Mr. Barnard's just in time for breakfast, which, fortunately, was a bit late because of the party the night before. I guess everyone at the table was too tired to notice how worn out we looked—though it wouldn't have stood up to close scrutiny. Schoolboys can pull off some impressive deceptions, and I truly believe not one of our friends in Nantucket had the slightest idea that the awful story some sailors were telling about running down a vessel at sea and drowning thirty or forty poor souls had anything to do with the Ariel, my companion, or me. Since then, we’ve talked about it many times, but never without feeling uneasy. In one of our talks, Augustus honestly admitted that he had never felt such intense dread in his life as when he first realized how drunk he was on our little boat and felt himself being overwhelmed by it.
CHAPTER II.
In no affairs of mere prejudice, pro or con, do we deduce inferences with entire certainty even from the most simple data. It might be supposed that a catastrophe such as I have just related would have effectually cooled my incipient passion for the sea. On the contrary, I never experienced a more ardent longing for the wild adventures incident to the life of a navigator than within a week after our miraculous deliverance. This short period proved amply long enough to erase from my memory the shadows, and bring out in vivid light all the pleasurably exciting points of colour, all the picturesqueness of the late perilous accident. My conversations with Augustus grew daily more frequent and more intensely full of interest. He had a manner of relating his stories of the ocean (more than one half of which I now suspect to have been sheer fabrications) well adapted to have weight with one of my enthusiastic temperament, and somewhat gloomy, although glowing imagination. It is strange, too, that he most strongly enlisted my feelings in behalf of the life of a seaman, when he depicted his more terrible moments of suffering and despair. For the bright side of the painting I had a limited sympathy. My visions were of shipwreck and famine; of death or captivity among barbarian hordes; of a lifetime dragged out in sorrow and tears, upon some gray and desolate rock, in an ocean unapproachable and unknown. Such visions or desires—for they amounted to desires—are common, I have since been assured, to the whole numerous race of the melancholy among men—at the time of which I speak I regarded them only as prophetic glimpses of a destiny which I felt myself in a measure bound to fulfil. Augustus thoroughly entered into my state of mind. It is probable, indeed, that our intimate communion had resulted in a partial interchange of character.
In matters of simple bias, whether positive or negative, we don't draw conclusions with total certainty even from the most basic information. You might think that a disaster like the one I just described would have completely dimmed my budding passion for the sea. On the contrary, I felt a stronger desire for the thrilling adventures that come with being a navigator than ever, just a week after our miraculous escape. This short time was more than enough to wipe away the darker memories and highlight all the exciting, colorful aspects of that dangerous accident. My talks with Augustus became more frequent and increasingly captivating. He had a way of telling his ocean stories (more than half of which I now suspect were outright fabrications) that resonated with my enthusiastic yet somewhat gloomy imagination. It’s odd, too, that he stirred my emotions the most when he described his worst moments of suffering and despair as a sailor. I had limited sympathy for the bright side of his tales. My dreams were filled with shipwrecks and starvation, death or capture by savage tribes, and a lifetime spent in sorrow on some lonely, desolate rock in an unfathomable ocean. These visions or desires—because they truly were desires—are common, I’ve since learned, among the melancholic among us. At the time I’m talking about, I saw them only as prophetic glimpses of a fate I felt destined to fulfill. Augustus understood my mindset completely. It’s likely that our close connection led to some kind of exchange of character traits between us.
About eighteen months after the period of the Ariel's disaster, the firm of Lloyd and Vredenburgh (a house connected in some manner with the Messieurs Enderby, I believe, of Liverpool) were engaged in repairing and fitting out the brig Grampus for a whaling voyage. She was an old hulk, and scarcely seaworthy when all was done to her that could be done. I hardly know why she was chosen in preference to other good vessels belonging to the same owners—but so it was. Mr. Barnard was appointed to command her, and Augustus was going with him. While the brig was getting ready, he frequently urged upon me the excellency of the opportunity now offered for indulging my desire of travel. He found me by no means an unwilling listener—yet the matter could not be so easily arranged. My father made no direct opposition; but my mother went into hysterics at the bare mention of the design; and, more than all, my grandfather, from whom I expected much, vowed to cut me off with a shilling if I should ever broach the subject to him again. These difficulties, however, so far from abating my desire, only added fuel to the flame. I determined to go at all hazards; and, having made known my intention to Augustus, we set about arranging a plan by which it might be accomplished. In the meantime I forbore speaking to any of my relations in regard to the voyage, and, as I busied myself ostensibly with my usual studies, it was supposed that I had abandoned the design. I have since frequently examined my conduct on this occasion with sentiments of displeasure as well as of surprise. The intense hypocrisy I made use of for the furtherance of my project—an hypocrisy pervading every word and action of my life for so long a period of time—could only have been rendered tolerable to myself by the wild and burning expectation with which I looked forward to the fulfilment of my long-cherished visions of travel.
About eighteen months after the Ariel disaster, the company of Lloyd and Vredenburgh (which I believe is somehow connected to the Enderby brothers from Liverpool) was involved in repairing and prepping the brig Grampus for a whaling trip. She was an old hulk and barely seaworthy, even after everything that was done to her. I’m not entirely sure why she was chosen over other good ships owned by the same people—but that’s how it went. Mr. Barnard was set to command her, and Augustus would be going with him. While the brig was being prepared, he often encouraged me to take advantage of the great opportunity to travel. I was definitely interested, but the situation wasn’t so simple. My father didn’t openly oppose it, but my mother had a meltdown just at the thought of it; and, even more importantly, my grandfather, from whom I expected a lot of support, threatened to cut me off with just a shilling if I ever brought it up again. These challenges, however, only fueled my desire even more. I decided to go no matter what; after sharing my plans with Augustus, we began figuring out how to make it happen. Meanwhile, I avoided discussing the trip with any of my relatives, and while I pretended to focus on my studies, everyone thought I had given up on the idea. Since then, I’ve often reflected on my actions during this time with a mix of disappointment and surprise. The deep hypocrisy I engaged in to push my agenda—hypocrisy that affected every word and action of mine for such an extended period—was only bearable because of the wild and intense excitement I felt about finally chasing my long-held dreams of travel.
In pursuance of my scheme of deception, I was necessarily obliged to leave much to the management of Augustus, who was employed for the greater part of every day on board the Grampus, attending to some arrangements for his father in the cabin and cabin hold. At night, however, we were sure to have a conference, and talk over our hopes. After nearly a month passed in this manner, without our hitting upon any plan we thought likely to succeed, he told me at last that he had determined upon everything necessary. I had a relation living in New Bedford, a Mr. Ross, at whose house I was in the habit of spending occasionally two or three weeks at a time. The brig was to sail about the middle of June (June, 1827), and it was agreed that, a day or two before her putting to sea, my father was to receive a note, as usual, from Mr. Ross, asking me to come over and spend a fortnight with Robert and Emmet (his sons). Augustus charged himself with the enditing of this note and getting it delivered. Having set out, as supposed, for New Bedford, I was then to report myself to my companion, who would contrive a hiding-place for me in the Grampus. This hiding-place, he assured me, would be rendered sufficiently comfortable for a residence of many days, during which I was not to make my appearance. When the brig had proceeded so far on her course as to make any turning back a matter out of question, I should then, he said, be formally installed in all the comforts of the cabin; and as to his father, he would only laugh heartily at the joke. Vessels enough would be met with by which a letter might be sent home explaining the adventure to my parents.
As part of my deception plan, I had to leave a lot to Augustus, who spent most of his days on the Grampus, handling some arrangements for his dad in the cabin and hold. At night, though, we would always have a meeting to discuss our hopes. After almost a month of this without coming up with a plan we thought would work, he finally told me he had figured everything out. I had a relative in New Bedford, Mr. Ross, where I often spent a couple of weeks at a time. The brig was set to sail around mid-June (June 1827), and it was agreed that a day or two before it left, my dad would receive a note from Mr. Ross, inviting me to come over and spend a couple of weeks with his sons, Robert and Emmet. Augustus took it upon himself to write this note and make sure it got delivered. After I supposedly set out for New Bedford, I would then check in with my partner, who would create a hiding spot for me on the Grampus. He assured me this hiding place would be comfortable enough for several days while I stayed out of sight. Once the brig was far enough along its journey that turning back wasn't an option, he said I would be officially welcomed into the comforts of the cabin, and his dad would just laugh at the joke. There would be plenty of ships around to send a letter home explaining my adventure to my parents.
The middle of June at length arrived, and everything had been matured. The note was written and delivered, and on a Monday morning I left the house for the New Bedford packet, as supposed. I went, however, straight to Augustus, who was waiting for me at the corner of a street. It had been our original plan that I should keep out of the way until dark, and then slip on board the brig; but, as there was now a thick fog in our favour, it was agreed to lose no time in secreting me. Augustus led the way to the wharf, and I followed at a little distance, enveloped in a thick seaman's cloak, which he had brought with him, so that my person might not be easily recognised. Just as we turned the second corner, after passing Mr. Edmund's well, who should appear, standing right in front of me, and looking me full in the face, but old Mr. Peterson, my grandfather. "Why, bless my soul, Gordon," said he, after a long pause, "why, why—whose dirty cloak is that you have on?" "Sir!" I replied, assuming, as well as I could, in the exigency of the moment, an air of offended surprise, and talking in the gruffest of all imaginable tones—"sir! you are a sum'mat mistaken—my name, in the first place, bee'nt nothing at all like Goddin, and I'd want you for to know better, you blackguard, than to call my new obercoat a darty one!" For my life I could hardly refrain from screaming with laughter at the odd manner in which the old gentleman received this handsome rebuke. He started back two or three steps, turned first pale and then excessively red, threw up his spectacles, then, putting them down, ran full tilt at me, with his umbrella uplifted. He stopped short, however, in his career, as if struck with a sudden recollection; and presently, turning round, hobbled off down the street, shaking all the while with rage, and muttering between his teeth, "Won't do—new glasses—thought it was Gordon—d——d good-for-nothing salt water Long Tom."
The middle of June finally arrived, and everything was ready. The note was written and delivered, and on a Monday morning, I left the house for the New Bedford packet, or so it seemed. Instead, I went straight to Augustus, who was waiting for me at the corner of a street. Our original plan had been for me to stay out of sight until dark and then sneak on board the brig, but since there was now a thick fog in our favor, we agreed to not waste any time hiding me. Augustus led the way to the wharf, and I followed at a short distance, wrapped in a thick seaman's cloak he had brought along, so I wouldn’t be easily recognized. Just as we turned the second corner after passing Mr. Edmund's well, who should appear right in front of me, looking me straight in the face, but old Mr. Peterson, my grandfather. "Well, bless my soul, Gordon," he said after a long pause, "why, why—whose filthy cloak is that you have on?" "Sir!" I replied, trying my best to sound offended and speaking in the gruffest tone I could manage—"Sir! you are somewhat mistaken—my name, first of all, isn't anything like Goddin, and I want you to know better, you scoundrel, than to call my new overcoat a filthy one!" I could barely hold back my laughter at the funny way the old gentleman reacted to my sharp response. He took two or three steps back, first turning pale and then bright red, adjusted his spectacles, then, after putting them down, charged right at me with his umbrella raised. However, he stopped suddenly as if hit by a sudden realization and then turned around, hobbling down the street, shaking with anger and muttering to himself, "Won't do—new glasses—thought it was Gordon—damn good-for-nothing saltwater Long Tom."
After this narrow escape we proceeded with greater caution, and arrived at our point of destination in safety. There were only one or two of the hands on board, and these were busy forward, doing something to the forecastle combings. Captain Barnard, we knew very well, was engaged at Lloyd and Vredenburgh's, and would remain there until late in the evening, so we had little to apprehend on his account. Augustus went first up the vessel's side, and in a short while I followed him, without being noticed by the men at work. We proceeded at once into the cabin, and found no person there. It was fitted up in the most comfortable style—a thing somewhat unusual in a whaling-vessel. There were four very excellent staterooms, with wide and convenient berths. There was also a large stove, I took notice, and a remarkably thick and valuable carpet covering the floor of both the cabin and staterooms. The ceiling was full seven feet high, and, in short, everything appeared of a more roomy and agreeable nature than I had anticipated. Augustus, however, would allow me but little time for observation, insisting upon the necessity of my concealing myself as soon as possible. He led the way into his own stateroom, which was on the starboard side of the brig, and next to the bulkheads. Upon entering, he closed the door and bolted it. I thought I had never seen a nicer little room than the one in which I now found myself. It was about ten feet long, and had only one berth, which, as I said before, was wide and convenient. In that portion of the closet nearest the bulkheads there was a space of four feet square, containing a table, a chair, and a set of hanging shelves full of books, chiefly books of voyages and travels. There were many other little comforts in the room, among which I ought not to forget a kind of safe or refrigerator, in which Augustus pointed out to me a host of delicacies, both in the eating and drinking department.
After this narrow escape, we moved more carefully and made it to our destination safely. There were only one or two crew members on board, and they were busy up front, working on something to do with the forecastle. We knew Captain Barnard was at Lloyd and Vredenburgh’s and would be there until late in the evening, so we didn’t have much to worry about regarding him. Augustus climbed up the side of the vessel first, and soon after, I followed him without the workers noticing. We headed straight into the cabin and found it empty. It was fitted up quite comfortably—a bit unusual for a whaling vessel. There were four really nice staterooms with wide and comfortable berths. I also noticed a large stove and a surprisingly thick and valuable carpet covering the floors of both the cabin and staterooms. The ceiling was about seven feet high, and overall, everything felt roomier and more pleasant than I had expected. However, Augustus didn’t give me much time to take it all in; he insisted I hide away as soon as possible. He led the way into his own stateroom on the starboard side of the brig, right next to the bulkheads. Once inside, he closed and bolted the door. I thought I had never seen a nicer little room than the one I was in now. It was about ten feet long and had just one berth, which, as I mentioned, was wide and comfortable. In the part of the closet closest to the bulkheads, there was a four-foot square space containing a table, a chair, and a set of hanging shelves packed with books, mostly about voyages and travels. There were also many other little comforts in the room, including a kind of safe or refrigerator, where Augustus showed me an array of delicacies for eating and drinking.
He now pressed with his knuckles upon a certain spot of the carpet in one corner of the space just mentioned, letting me know that a portion of the flooring, about sixteen inches square, had been neatly cut out and again adjusted. As he pressed, this portion rose up at one end sufficiently to allow the passage of his finger beneath. In this manner he raised the mouth of the trap (to which the carpet was still fastened by tacks), and I found that it led into the after hold. He next lit a small taper by means of a phosphorus match, and, placing the light in a dark lantern, descended with it through the opening, bidding me follow. I did so, and he then pulled the cover upon the hole, by means of a nail driven into the under side—the carpet, of course, resuming its original position on the floor of the stateroom, and all traces of the aperture being concealed.
He now pressed his knuckles on a spot of the carpet in one corner of the room I just mentioned, letting me know that a piece of the flooring, about sixteen inches square, had been neatly cut out and put back in place. As he pressed, this section lifted at one end enough to let his finger slide underneath. In this way, he raised the trapdoor (which was still attached to the carpet by tacks), and I discovered it led down into the hold. He then lit a small candle with a phosphorus match and placed the light in a dark lantern before descending through the opening, telling me to follow. I did, and he pulled the cover over the hole using a nail driven into the underside—the carpet, of course, went back to its original position on the stateroom floor, hiding any signs of the opening.
The taper gave out so feeble a ray, that it was with the greatest difficulty I could grope my way through the confused mass of lumber among which I now found myself. By degrees, however, my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, and I proceeded with less trouble, holding on to the skirts of my friend's coat. He brought me, at length, after creeping and winding through innumerable narrow passages, to an iron-bound box, such as is used sometimes for packing fine earthenware. It was nearly four feet high, and full six long, but very narrow. Two large empty oil-casks lay on the top of it, and above these, again, a vast quantity of straw matting, piled up as high as the floor of the cabin. In every other direction around was wedged as closely as possible, even up to the ceiling, a complete chaos of almost every species of ship-furniture, together with a heterogeneous medley of crates, hampers, barrels, and bales, so that it seemed a matter no less than miraculous that we had discovered any passage at all to the box. I afterward found that Augustus had purposely arranged the stowage in this hold with a view to affording me a thorough concealment, having had only one assistant in the labour, a man not going out in the brig.
The lantern gave off such a weak light that I could barely navigate through the jumbled mass of wood around me. Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I was able to move with a bit more ease, holding onto the back of my friend's coat. Eventually, after crawling and winding through countless narrow paths, we reached a heavy metal-bound box, similar to those used for shipping delicate pottery. It was about four feet tall and six feet long but very narrow. Two large, empty oil barrels sat on top of it, and above those, a huge pile of straw matting rose up to the cabin floor. In every other direction, tightly packed to the ceiling, was a complete mess of almost every type of ship's furniture, as well as a random mix of crates, hampers, barrels, and bales, making it seem almost miraculous that we had found any way to the box at all. Later, I learned that Augustus had intentionally arranged the storage in this hold to provide me with a secure hiding place, having had only one assistant with the work, a guy who wasn't going on the trip with us.
My companion now showed me that one of the ends of the box could be removed at pleasure. He slipped it aside and displayed the interior, at which I was excessively amused. A mattress from one of the cabin berths covered the whole of its bottom, and it contained almost every article of mere comfort which could be crowded into so small a space, allowing me, at the same time, sufficient room for my accommodation, either in a sitting position or lying at full length. Among other things, there were some books, pen, ink, and paper, three blankets, a large jug full of water, a keg of sea-biscuit, three or four immense Bologna sausages, an enormous ham, a cold leg of roast mutton, and half a dozen bottles of cordials and liqueurs. I proceeded immediately to take possession of my little apartment, and this with feelings of higher satisfaction, I am sure, than any monarch ever experienced upon entering a new palace. Augustus now pointed out to me the method of fastening the open end of the box, and then, holding the taper close to the deck, showed me a piece of dark whipcord lying along it. This, he said, extended from my hiding-place throughout all the necessary windings among the lumber, to a nail which was driven into the deck of the hold, immediately beneath the trapdoor leading into his stateroom. By means of this cord I should be enabled readily to trace my way out without his guidance, provided any unlooked-for accident should render such a step necessary. He now took his departure, leaving with me the lantern, together with a copious supply of tapers and phosphorus, and promising to pay me a visit as often as he could contrive to do so without observation. This was on the seventeenth of June.
My companion now showed me that one end of the box could be easily removed. He slid it aside to reveal the inside, which I found incredibly amusing. A mattress from one of the cabin berths covered the entire bottom, and it held almost every comfort item you could fit into such a small space, giving me enough room to either sit or lie down fully. Among other things, there were some books, pen, ink, and paper, three blankets, a large jug of water, a keg of sea-biscuit, three or four massive Bologna sausages, a huge ham, a cold leg of roast mutton, and half a dozen bottles of cordials and liqueurs. I immediately settled into my little space, feeling far more satisfied than any monarch ever felt entering a new palace. Augustus then showed me how to secure the open end of the box and, holding a candle close to the deck, pointed out a piece of dark whipcord running along it. He explained that this cord extended from my hiding place through all the necessary twists among the clutter to a nail driven into the hold's deck, right beneath the trapdoor leading to his stateroom. With this cord, I could easily find my way out without his help if an unexpected accident made it necessary. He then left, giving me the lantern along with a generous supply of candles and phosphorus, and promised to visit me as often as he could without being noticed. This was on June 17th.
I remained three days and nights (as nearly as I could guess) in my hiding-place without getting out of it at all, except twice for the purpose of stretching my limbs by standing erect between two crates just opposite the opening. During the whole period I saw nothing of Augustus; but this occasioned me little uneasiness, as I knew the brig was expected to put to sea every hour, and in the bustle he would not easily find opportunities of coming down to me. At length I heard the trap open and shut, and presently he called in a low voice, asking if all was well, and if there was anything I wanted. "Nothing," I replied; "I am as comfortable as can be; when will the brig sail?" "She will be under weigh in less than half an hour," he answered. "I came to let you know, and for fear you should be uneasy at my absence. I shall not have a chance of coming down again for some time—perhaps for three or four days more. All is going on right aboveboard. After I go up and close the trap, do you creep along by the whipcord to where the nail is driven in. You will find my watch there—it may be useful to you, as you have no daylight to keep time by. I suppose you can't tell how long you have been buried—only three days—this is the twentieth. I would bring the watch to your box, but am afraid of being missed." With this he went up.
I stayed in my hiding spot for about three days and nights without leaving, except twice to stretch my legs by standing between two crates right by the opening. During that entire time, I didn’t see Augustus, but it didn’t worry me much since I knew the brig was supposed to leave at any moment, and in all the chaos, he wouldn’t have an easy time coming down to see me. Finally, I heard the trap open and close, and then he called down softly, asking if everything was okay and if I needed anything. “No, I’m fine,” I replied. “When is the brig leaving?” “It will set sail in less than half an hour,” he said. “I came to let you know and to make sure you weren't worried about me being gone. I probably won’t be able to come down again for a while—maybe three or four more days. Everything is running smoothly up there. After I go up and close the trap, you should crawl along the whipcord to where the nail is. You’ll find my watch there—it might help you since you don’t have any daylight to tell time. I guess you can’t figure out how long you’ve been down here—only three days—it’s the twentieth. I’d bring the watch to your spot, but I’m afraid people would notice me.” With that, he went back up.
In about an hour after he had gone I distinctly felt the brig in motion, and congratulated myself upon having at length fairly commenced a voyage. Satisfied with this idea, I determined to make my mind as easy as possible, and await the course of events until I should be permitted to exchange the box for the more roomy, although hardly more comfortable, accommodations of the cabin. My first care was to get the watch. Leaving the taper burning, I groped along in the dark, following the cord through windings innumerable, in some of which I discovered that, after toiling a long distance, I was brought back within a foot or two of a former position. At length I reached the nail, and, securing the object of my journey, returned with it in safety. I now looked over the books which had been so thoughtfully provided, and selected the expedition of Lewis and Clarke to the mouth of the Columbia. With this I amused myself for some time, when, growing sleepy, I extinguished the light with great care, and soon fell into a sound slumber.
About an hour after he left, I clearly felt the ship moving, and I congratulated myself on finally starting a voyage. Happy with this thought, I decided to relax and wait for things to unfold until I could swap the box for the more spacious, though hardly more comfortable, cabin accommodations. My first priority was to get the watch. Leaving the candle burning, I navigated in the dark, following the cord through countless twists and turns, sometimes finding that after a long effort, I would end up just a foot or two from where I started. Eventually, I reached the nail, secured what I came for, and returned safely. I then browsed through the books that had been thoughtfully provided and picked the expedition of Lewis and Clark to the mouth of the Columbia. I spent some time enjoying that, but as I grew sleepy, I carefully blew out the light and soon fell into a deep sleep.
Upon awaking I felt strangely confused in mind, and some time elapsed before I could bring to recollection all the various circumstances of my situation. By degrees, however, I remembered all. Striking a light, I looked at the watch; but it was run down, and there were, consequently, no means of determining how long I had slept. My limbs were greatly cramped, and I was forced to relieve them by standing between the crates. Presently, feeling an almost ravenous appetite, I bethought myself of the cold mutton, some of which I had eaten just before going to sleep, and found excellent. What was my astonishment at discovering it to be in a state of absolute putrefaction! This circumstance occasioned me great disquietude; for, connecting it with the disorder of mind I experienced upon awaking, I began to suppose that I must have slept for an inordinately long period of time. The close atmosphere of the hold might have had something to do with this, and might, in the end, be productive of the most serious results. My head ached excessively; I fancied that I drew every breath with difficulty; and, in short, I was oppressed with a multitude of gloomy feelings. Still I could not venture to make any disturbance by opening the trap or otherwise, and, having wound up the watch, contented myself as well as possible.
Upon waking up, I felt really confused, and it took a while for me to remember all the different things about my situation. Gradually, though, I recalled everything. I struck a match to light up the area and checked my watch, but it had stopped, so I had no way of knowing how long I had slept. My limbs were really cramped, so I had to stand between the crates to stretch them out. Soon, feeling extremely hungry, I remembered the cold mutton I had eaten just before falling asleep, which I had found delicious. To my shock, I discovered it was completely rotten! This made me really anxious because, along with the confusion I felt upon waking, it led me to think that I must have slept for a ridiculously long time. The stuffy air in the hold might have contributed to this and could potentially cause serious issues. My head hurt a lot, I felt like I was struggling to breathe, and overall, I was overwhelmed by a lot of dark feelings. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to create any noise by opening the trap or anything, so after winding up my watch, I just tried to make the best of it.
Throughout the whole of the next tedious twenty-four hours no person came to my relief, and I could not help accusing Augustus of the grossest inattention. What alarmed me chiefly was, that the water in my jug was reduced to about half a pint, and I was suffering much from thirst, having eaten freely of the Bologna sausages after the loss of my mutton. I became very uneasy, and could no longer take any interest in my books. I was overpowered, too, with a desire to sleep, yet trembled at the thought of indulging it, lest there might exist some pernicious influence, like that of burning charcoal, in the confined air of the hold. In the mean time the roll of the brig told me that we were far in the main ocean, and a dull humming sound, which reached my ears as if from an immense distance, convinced me no ordinary gale was blowing. I could not imagine a reason for the absence of Augustus. We were surely far enough advanced on our voyage to allow of my going up. Some accident might have happened to him—but I could think of none which would account for his suffering me to remain so long a prisoner, except, indeed, his having suddenly died or fallen overboard, and upon this idea I could not dwell with any degree of patience. It was possible that we had been baffled by head winds, and were still in the near vicinity of Nantucket. This notion, however, I was forced to abandon; for, such being the case, the brig must have frequently gone about; and I was entirely satisfied, from her continual inclination to the larboard, that she had been sailing all along with a steady breeze on her starboard quarter. Besides, granting that we were still in the neighbourhood of the island, why should not Augustus have visited me and informed me of the circumstance? Pondering in this manner upon the difficulties of my solitary and cheerless condition, I resolved to wait yet another twenty-four hours, when, if no relief were obtained, I would make my way to the trap, and endeavour either to hold a parley with my friend, or get at least a little fresh air through the opening, and a further supply of water from his stateroom. While occupied with this thought, however, I fell, in spite of every exertion to the contrary, into a state of profound sleep, or rather stupor. My dreams were of the most terrific description. Every species of calamity and horror befell me. Among other miseries, I was smothered to death between huge pillows, by demons of the most ghastly and ferocious aspect. Immense serpents held me in their embrace, and looked earnestly in my face with their fearfully shining eyes. Then deserts, limitless, and of the most forlorn and awe-inspiring character, spread themselves out before me. Immensely tall trunks of trees, gray and leafless, rose up in endless succession as far as the eye could reach. Their roots were concealed in wide-spreading morasses, whose dreary water lay intensely black, still, and altogether terrible, beneath. And the strange trees seemed endowed with a human vitality, and, waving to and fro their skeleton arms, were crying to the silent waters for mercy, in the shrill and piercing accents of the most acute agony and despair. The scene changed; and I stood, naked and alone, amid the burning sand-plains of Zahara. At my feet lay crouched a fierce lion of the tropics. Suddenly his wild eyes opened and fell upon me. With a convulsive bound he sprang to his feet, and laid bare his horrible teeth. In another instant there burst from his red throat a roar like the thunder of the firmament, and I fell impetuously to the earth. Stifling in a paroxysm of terror, I at last found myself partially awake. My dream, then, was not all a dream. Now, at least, I was in possession of my senses. The paws of some huge and real monster were pressing heavily upon my bosom—his hot breath was in my ear—and his white and ghastly fangs were gleaming upon me through the gloom.
Throughout the next long twenty-four hours, no one came to help me, and I couldn’t help but blame Augustus for being so careless. What worried me the most was that the water in my jug was down to about half a pint, and I was really thirsty after eating a lot of the Bologna sausages since losing my lamb. I became very anxious and couldn’t focus on my books anymore. I was also overwhelmed by the urge to sleep, yet I was afraid to give in to it, fearing there might be some harmful influence, like the fumes from burning charcoal, in the stagnant air of the hold. Meanwhile, the motion of the brig indicated that we were deep into the ocean, and a dull humming sound that reached my ears, as if from far away, convinced me that no ordinary storm was taking place. I couldn’t think of a reason for Augustus’s absence. We should have been far enough along on our journey for me to go up. Something could have happened to him—but I couldn’t think of any accident that would explain why he left me here for so long, except that he suddenly died or fell overboard, and I couldn’t bear to dwell on that thought. It was possible we were stuck in the wind and still close to Nantucket. However, I had to let go of that idea; if that were true, the brig would have needed to turn around frequently, and I was completely certain, from her consistent tilt to the left, that she had been sailing all along with a steady wind blowing from the right. Besides, even if we were still near the island, why wouldn’t Augustus have come to see me and let me know? As I contemplated the difficulties of my lonely and grim situation, I decided to wait another twenty-four hours, and if no help came, I would make my way to the trap and try to either talk to my friend or at least get some fresh air through the opening and grab more water from his stateroom. However, while I was lost in this thought, I unexpectedly fell into a deep sleep, or rather a stupor, despite all my efforts to stay awake. My dreams were terrifying. I suffered every kind of disaster and horror. Among other nightmares, I was smothered to death between giant pillows by demons that looked incredibly fearsome. Huge snakes held me tight and stared me down with their frighteningly shining eyes. Then, endless, desolate, awe-inspiring deserts stretched out before me. Towering, gray, leafless trees rose up in an unending line as far as I could see. Their roots were hidden in vast, dreary swamps where the still, intensely black water lay, terrible and menacing, beneath. The strange trees seemed to have a human-like vitality, and, waving their skeletal arms back and forth, they cried out to the silent waters for mercy in piercing accents filled with the sharpest agony and despair. The scene shifted, and I found myself naked and alone in the burning sandy plains of Zahara. At my feet lay a fierce lion. Suddenly, his wild eyes opened and locked onto me. With a powerful leap, he sprang up, revealing his horrible teeth. In an instant, a roar burst from his throat like thunder, and I collapsed to the ground. Overwhelmed by terror, I finally began to awaken. My dream wasn’t just a dream. Now, at least, my senses were clear. The paws of some huge, real creature were pressing heavily on my chest—its hot breath was in my ear—and its white, ghastly fangs gleamed at me through the darkness.
Had a thousand lives hung upon the movement of a limb or the utterance of a syllable, I could have neither stirred nor spoken. The beast, whatever it was, retained his position without attempting any immediate violence, while I lay in an utterly helpless, and, I fancied, a dying condition beneath him. I felt that my powers of body and mind were fast leaving me—in a word, that I was perishing, and perishing of sheer fright. My brain swam—I grew deadly sick—my vision failed—even the glaring eyeballs above me grew dim. Making a last strong effort, I at length breathed a faint ejaculation to God, and resigned myself to die. The sound of my voice seemed to arouse all the latent fury of the animal. He precipitated himself at full length upon my body; but what was my astonishment, when, with a long and low whine, he commenced licking my face and hands with the greatest eagerness, and with the most extravagant demonstrations of affection and joy! I was bewildered, utterly lost in amazement—but I could not forget the peculiar whine of my Newfoundland dog Tiger, and the odd manner of his caresses I well knew. It was he. I experienced a sudden rush of blood to my temples—a giddy and overpowering sense of deliverance and reanimation. I rose hurriedly from the mattress upon which I had been lying, and, throwing myself upon the neck of my faithful follower and friend, relieved the long oppression of my bosom in a flood of the most passionate tears.
If a thousand lives depended on moving a limb or saying a word, I couldn't have done either. The creature, whatever it was, stayed in place without trying to harm me, while I lay helpless and, I thought, dying beneath it. I felt my body and mind slowly fading away—in short, I was dying, purely from fear. My head spun—I felt nauseous—my vision dimmed—even the glaring eyes above me grew hazy. Summoning a final effort, I managed to let out a weak prayer to God and resigned myself to death. The sound of my voice seemed to trigger all the hidden anger of the animal. It launched itself onto my body, but to my astonishment, with a long, low whine, it began licking my face and hands with immense eagerness and the most exaggerated displays of affection and joy! I was completely bewildered, lost in amazement—but I couldn't forget the unique whine of my Newfoundland dog, Tiger, and the familiar way he showed his affection. It was him. I felt a rush of blood to my head—a dizzying and overwhelming sense of relief and revival. I jumped up from the mattress where I'd been lying and threw myself around my faithful companion's neck, releasing the long-held weight in my heart with a flood of passionate tears.
As upon a former occasion, my conceptions were in a state of the greatest indistinctness and confusion after leaving the mattress. For a long time I found it nearly impossible to connect any ideas—but, by very slow degrees, my thinking faculties returned, and I again called to memory the several incidents of my condition. For the presence of Tiger I tried in vain to account; and after busying myself with a thousand different conjectures respecting him, was forced to content myself with rejoicing that he was with me to share my dreary solitude, and render me comfort by his caresses. Most people love their dogs—but for Tiger I had an affection far more ardent than common; and never, certainly, did any creature more truly deserve it. For seven years he had been my inseparable companion, and in a multitude of instances had given evidence of all the noble qualities for which we value the animal. I had rescued him, when a puppy, from the clutches of a malignant little villain in Nantucket, who was leading him, with a rope around his neck, to the water; and the grown dog repaid the obligation, about three years afterward, by saving me from the bludgeon of a street-robber.
After getting off the mattress, my thoughts were a jumbled mess, just like before. For a long time, I struggled to put any ideas together, but slowly, my mind started to clear, and I remembered various details about my situation. I couldn't figure out why Tiger was there with me; I speculated endlessly about him but finally settled on being grateful that he was there to keep me company in my lonely state and comfort me with his affection. Most people love their dogs, but my feelings for Tiger were deeper than usual; no creature could deserve it more. He had been my constant companion for seven years and had shown so many of the wonderful qualities we admire in animals. I had saved him as a puppy from a nasty little kid in Nantucket, who was dragging him toward the water by a rope around his neck, and in return, about three years later, the adult dog saved me from a mugger’s attack.
Getting now hold of the watch, I found, upon applying it to my ear, that it had again run down; but at this I was not at all surprised, being convinced, from the peculiar state of my feelings, that I had slept, as before, for a very long period of time; how long, it was of course impossible to say. I was burning up with fever, and my thirst was almost intolerable. I felt about the box for my little remaining supply of water; for I had no light, the taper having burnt to the socket of the lantern, and the phosphorus-box not coming readily to hand. Upon finding the jug, however, I discovered it to be empty—Tiger, no doubt, having been tempted to drink it, as well as to devour the remnant of mutton, the bone of which lay, well picked, by the opening of the box. The spoiled meat I could well spare, but my heart sank as I thought of the water. I was feeble in the extreme—so much so that I shook all over, as with an ague, at the slightest movement or exertion. To add to my troubles, the brig was pitching and rolling with great violence, and the oil-casks which lay upon my box were in momentary danger of falling down, so as to block up the only way of ingress or egress. I felt, also, terrible sufferings from sea-sickness. These considerations determined me to make my way, at all hazards, to the trap, and obtain immediate relief, before I should be incapacitated from doing so altogether. Having come to this resolve, I again felt about for the phosphorus-box and tapers. The former I found after some little trouble; but, not discovering the tapers as soon as I had expected (for I remembered very nearly the spot in which I had placed them), I gave up the search for the present, and bidding Tiger lie quiet, began at once my journey towards the trap.
Grabbing the watch, I held it to my ear and realized it had stopped again, but I wasn’t surprised. Given how I felt, I figured I had slept for a long time again; how long, I couldn't tell. I was burning up with fever, and I was extremely thirsty. I felt around the box for my last bit of water; I had no light since the candle had burned down to the socket of the lantern, and the phosphorus box was out of reach. When I finally found the jug, I discovered it was empty—Tiger must have been tempted to drink it, along with finishing off the leftover mutton, the bone of which was picked clean beside the opening of the box. I could do without the spoiled meat, but my heart sank at the thought of no water. I was incredibly weak—so much that I shook all over like I had chills at the slightest movement. To make matters worse, the brig was pitching and rolling violently, and the oil barrels on top of my box were at risk of falling and blocking my only way in or out. I also felt horrible from seasickness. All these thoughts pushed me to make my way, no matter the risks, to the trap and find immediate relief before I became completely incapacitated. With this decision made, I felt around for the phosphorus box and candles again. I managed to find the phosphorus box with some effort, but I didn’t find the candles as quickly as I had hoped (I remembered almost exactly where I’d put them), so I gave up on the search for now. I told Tiger to stay put and started my journey toward the trap.
In this attempt my great feebleness became more than ever apparent. It was with the utmost difficulty I could crawl along at all, and very frequently my limbs sank suddenly from beneath me; when, falling prostrate on my face, I would remain for some minutes in a state bordering on insensibility. Still I struggled forward by slow degrees, dreading every moment that I should swoon amid the narrow and intricate windings of the lumber, in which event I had nothing but death to expect as the result. At length, upon making a push forward with all the energy I could command, I struck my forehead violently against the sharp corner of an iron-bound crate. The accident only stunned me for a few moments; but I found, to my inexpressible grief, that the quick and violent roll of the vessel had thrown the crate entirely across my path, so as effectually to block up the passage. With my utmost exertions I could not move it a single inch from its position, it being closely wedged in among the surrounding boxes and ship-furniture. It became necessary, therefore, enfeebled as I was, either to leave the guidance of the whipcord and seek out a new passage, or to climb over the obstacle, and resume the path on the other side. The former alternative presented too many difficulties and dangers to be thought of without a shudder. In my present weak state of both mind and body, I should infallibly lose my way if I attempted it, and perish miserably amid the dismal and disgusting labyrinths of the hold. I proceeded, therefore, without hesitation, to summon up all my remaining strength and fortitude, and endeavour, as I best might, to clamber over the crate.
In this attempt, my extreme weakness became more obvious than ever. It was incredibly hard for me to move at all, and often my limbs would suddenly give out; when that happened, I'd fall flat on my face and lie there for several minutes in a near unconscious state. Still, I pushed myself forward little by little, terrified that I might faint in the narrow and complicated twists of the cargo area, which would only lead to death. Finally, I made a strong effort to move ahead with all the strength I could muster and slammed my forehead hard against the sharp corner of an iron-bound crate. The crash stunned me for a moment, but I was devastated to see that the violent rolling of the ship had completely blocked my way with the crate. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t move it even an inch since it was tightly wedged among the surrounding boxes and ship equipment. Therefore, I had to either abandon the whipcord and search for a new path or climb over the obstacle and continue on the other side. The first option seemed too dangerous and complicated to even consider. In my current weakened state, both mentally and physically, I would surely lose my way and end up dying miserably in the grim and filthy maze of the hold. So, without hesitation, I decided to summon all my remaining strength and courage and try to climb over the crate as best as I could.
Upon standing erect, with this end in view, I found the undertaking even a more serious task than my fears had led me to imagine. On each side of the narrow passage arose a complete wall of various heavy lumber, which the least blunder on my part might be the means of bringing down upon my head; or, if this accident did not occur, the path might be effectually blocked up against my return by the descending mass, as it was in front by the obstacle there. The crate itself was a long and unwieldy box, upon which no foothold could be obtained. In vain I attempted, by every means in my power, to reach the top, with the hope of being thus enabled to draw myself up. Had I succeeded in reaching it, it is certain that my strength would have proved utterly inadequate to the task of getting over, and it was better in every respect that I failed. At length, in a desperate effort to force the crate from its ground, I felt a strong vibration in the side next me. I thrust my hand eagerly to the edge of the planks, and found that a very large one was loose. With my pocket-knife, which luckily I had with me, I succeeded, after great labour, in prying it entirely off; and, getting through the aperture, discovered, to my exceeding joy, that there were no boards on the opposite side—in other words, that the top was wanting, it being the bottom through which I had forced my way. I now met with no important difficulty in proceeding along the line until I finally reached the nail. With a beating heart I stood erect, and with a gentle touch pressed against the cover of the trap. It did not rise as soon as I had expected, and I pressed it with somewhat more determination, still dreading lest some other person than Augustus might be in his stateroom. The door, however, to my astonishment, remained steady, and I became somewhat uneasy, for I knew that it had formerly required little or no effort to remove it. I pushed it strongly—it was nevertheless firm: with all my strength—it still did not give way: with rage, with fury, with despair—it set at defiance my utmost efforts; and it was evident, from the unyielding nature of the resistance, that the hole had either been discovered and effectually nailed up, or that some immense weight had been placed upon it, which it was useless to think of removing.
As I stood up, trying to achieve this goal, I realized the task was even more serious than I had feared. On either side of the narrow passage, there was a complete wall of heavy lumber, and any mistake on my part could result in it collapsing on me. Even if that didn’t happen, the falling debris could easily block my way back, just as the obstacle ahead did. The crate was a long, awkward box that didn’t offer a solid footing. I tried everything I could think of to climb to the top, hoping it would help me pull myself up. Even if I had made it, I knew my strength would not be enough to get over it, so it was probably for the best that I failed. After a desperate attempt to shove the crate, I felt a strong vibration next to me. I hurriedly reached for the edge of the planks and discovered that a large one was loose. With my pocket knife, which I thankfully had, I managed, after much effort, to pry it off completely. Once I squeezed through the opening, I was overjoyed to find there were no boards on the other side—in other words, the top was missing, and I had come through the bottom. I encountered no major difficulties as I moved along until I finally reached the nail. My heart racing, I stood up and gently pressed on the trap cover. It didn’t rise as quickly as I had expected, so I pressed it a bit harder, still worried that someone other than Augustus might be in his stateroom. To my surprise, the door remained still, and I started to feel uneasy since it had previously taken little effort to move. I pushed it forcefully—it stayed shut. I used all my strength—it still wouldn’t budge. In my rage, fury, and despair, it resisted all my attempts; it was clear from the stubbornness of the door that either someone had discovered the hole and nailed it shut or a heavy weight was on it that I couldn’t hope to remove.
My sensations were those of extreme horror and dismay. In vain I attempted to reason on the probable cause of my being thus entombed. I could summon up no connected chain of reflection, and, sinking on the floor, gave way, unresistingly, to the most gloomy imaginings, in which the dreadful deaths of thirst, famine, suffocation, and premature interment, crowded upon me as the prominent disasters to be encountered. At length there returned to me some portion of presence of mind. I arose, and felt with my fingers for the seams or cracks of the aperture. Having found them, I examined them closely to ascertain if they emitted any light from the stateroom; but none was visible. I then forced the penblade of my knife through them, until I met with some hard obstacle. Scraping against it, I discovered it to be a solid mass of iron, which, from its peculiar wavy feel as I passed the blade along it, I concluded to be a chain-cable. The only course now left me was to retrace my way to the box, and there either yield to my sad fate, or try so to tranquillize my mind as to admit of my arranging some plan of escape. I immediately set about the attempt, and succeeded, after innumerable difficulties, in getting back. As I sank, utterly exhausted, upon the mattress, Tiger threw himself at full length by my side, and seemed as if desirous, by his caresses, of consoling me in my troubles, and urging me to bear them with fortitude.
My feelings were ones of extreme horror and dismay. I tried in vain to figure out how I ended up buried like this. I couldn’t come up with any clear thoughts, and, collapsing on the floor, I succumbed to the darkest imaginings, which included the terrible deaths of thirst, hunger, suffocation, and being buried alive, all crowding in as the main disasters I might face. Finally, I regained some presence of mind. I stood up and felt around for the seams or cracks of the opening. Once I found them, I examined them closely to see if they let in any light from the stateroom, but there was none. I then pushed the pen blade of my knife into the cracks until I hit something hard. As I scraped against it, I discovered it was a solid mass of iron, which felt wavy as I ran the blade along it, leading me to think it was a chain. The only option left was to return to the box and either accept my sad fate or find a way to calm my mind enough to come up with a plan to escape. I immediately set to work on that and, after countless difficulties, managed to get back. As I collapsed, completely exhausted, onto the mattress, Tiger lay down right next to me, seeming to want to comfort me with his affection and urge me to bear my troubles with strength.
The singularity of his behaviour at length forcibly arrested my attention. After licking my face and hands for some minutes, he would suddenly cease doing so, and utter a low whine. Upon reaching out my hand towards him, I then invariably found him lying on his back, with his paws uplifted. This conduct, so frequently repeated, appeared strange, and I could in no manner account for it. As the dog seemed distressed, I concluded that he had received some injury; and, taking his paws in my hands, I examined them one by one, but found no sign of any hurt. I then supposed him hungry, and gave him a large piece of ham, which he devoured with avidity—afterward, however, resuming his extraordinary manoeuvres. I now imagined that he was suffering, like myself, the torments of thirst, and was about adopting this conclusion as the true one, when the idea occurred to me that I had as yet only examined his paws, and that there might possibly be a wound upon some portion of his body or head. The latter I felt carefully over, but found nothing. On passing my hand, however, along his back, I perceived a slight erection of the hair extending completely across it. Probing this with my finger, I discovered a string, and, tracing it up, found that it encircled the whole body. Upon a closer scrutiny, I came across a small slip of what had the feeling of letter paper, through which the string had been fastened in such a manner as to bring it immediately beneath the left shoulder of the animal.
The uniqueness of his behavior eventually caught my attention. After licking my face and hands for a few minutes, he would suddenly stop and let out a low whine. Whenever I reached out my hand towards him, I always found him lying on his back with his paws up in the air. This behavior, which happened often, seemed strange to me, and I couldn't explain it. Since the dog looked distressed, I thought he might have gotten hurt; so I took his paws in my hands and checked them one by one, but I didn’t find any signs of injury. Then I figured he was hungry, so I gave him a large piece of ham, which he eagerly devoured—but he soon went back to his odd antics. I started to think that he was experiencing the same thirst as I was, and just when I was ready to accept that idea as the truth, it struck me that I had only looked at his paws, and there might be a wound on another part of his body or head. I carefully felt around his head but didn’t find anything. However, when I ran my hand along his back, I noticed some hair standing up across it. When I poked it with my finger, I discovered a string and traced it around, realizing it was wrapped around his entire body. Upon closer inspection, I found a small piece of what felt like letter paper, through which the string had been tied in such a way that it sat just beneath the dog’s left shoulder.
CHAPTER III.
The thought instantly occurred to me that the paper was a note from Augustus, and that some unaccountable accident having happened to prevent his relieving me from my dungeon, he had devised this method of acquainting me with the true state of affairs. Trembling with eagerness, I now commenced another search for my phosphorus matches and tapers. I had a confused recollection of having put them carefully away just before falling asleep; and, indeed, previously to my last journey to the trap, I had been able to remember the exact spot where I had deposited them. But now I endeavoured in vain to call it to mind, and busied myself for a full hour in a fruitless and vexatious search for the missing articles; never, surely, was there a more tantalizing state of anxiety and suspense. At length, while groping about, with my head close to the ballast, near the opening of the box, and outside of it, I perceived a faint glimmering of light in the direction of the steerage. Greatly surprised, I endeavoured to make my way towards it, as it appeared to be but a few feet from my position. Scarcely had I moved with this intention, when I lost sight of the glimmer entirely, and, before I could bring it into view again, was obliged to feel along by the box until I had exactly resumed my original situation. Now, moving my head with caution to and fro, I found that, by proceeding slowly, with great care, in an opposite direction to that in which I had at first started, I was enabled to draw near the light, still keeping it in view. Presently I came directly upon it (having squeezed my way through innumerable narrow windings), and found that it proceeded from some fragments of my matches lying in an empty barrel turned upon its side. I was wondering how they came in such a place, when my hand fell upon two or three pieces of taper-wax, which had been evidently mumbled by the dog. I concluded at once that he had devoured the whole of my supply of candles, and I felt hopeless of being ever able to read the note of Augustus. The small remnants of the wax were so mashed up among other rubbish in the barrel, that I despaired of deriving any service from them, and left them as they were. The phosphorus, of which there was only a speck or two, I gathered up as well as I could, and returned with it, after much difficulty, to my box, where Tiger had all the while remained.
The sudden thought hit me that the paper was a note from Augustus and that some strange accident had kept him from getting me out of my prison. He must have come up with this way to let me know what was really going on. Shaking with eagerness, I started searching again for my phosphorus matches and candles. I vaguely remembered putting them away carefully right before I fell asleep, and before my last trip to the trap, I could even recall exactly where I had placed them. But now, I struggled to remember, spending a frustrating hour searching for the missing items; never had I felt such a maddening mix of anxiety and suspense. Finally, while feeling around with my head close to the ballast, near the opening of the box and outside of it, I noticed a faint glimmer of light coming from the steerage. Greatly surprised, I tried to move towards it, thinking it was only a few feet away. As soon as I did, the light vanished completely, and before I could spot it again, I had to feel my way back to my original position. Now, by cautiously moving my head back and forth, I realized that by slowly going in the opposite direction from where I’d started, I could get closer to the light and keep it in sight. Eventually, I reached it after squeezing through countless narrow paths and discovered it came from some broken pieces of my matches lying in an empty barrel turned on its side. I was wondering how they ended up there when my hand brushed against a few pieces of taper wax that had clearly been chewed by the dog. I concluded that he had eaten all my candles, and I felt hopeless about ever reading Augustus's note. The small bits of wax were so mixed up with other clutter in the barrel that I gave up on using them and left them there. I gathered up the tiny bits of phosphorus as well as I could and, after a lot of trouble, returned to my box, where Tiger had stayed the whole time.
What to do next I could not tell. The hold was so intensely dark that I could not see my hand, however close I would hold it to my face. The white slip of paper could barely be discerned, and not even that when I looked at it directly; by turning the exterior portions of the retina towards it, that is to say, by surveying it slightly askance, I found that it became in some measure perceptible. Thus the gloom of my prison may be imagined, and the note of my friend, if indeed it were a note from him, seemed only likely to throw me into further trouble, by disquieting to no purpose my already enfeebled and agitated mind. In vain I revolved in my brain a multitude of absurd expedients for procuring light—such expedients precisely as a man in the perturbed sleep occasioned by opium would be apt to fall upon for a similar purpose—each and all of which appear by turns to the dreamer the most reasonable and the most preposterous of conceptions, just as the reasoning or imaginative faculties flicker, alternately, one above the other. At last an idea occurred to me which seemed rational, and which gave me cause to wonder, very justly, that I had not entertained it before. I placed the slip of paper on the back of a book, and, collecting the fragments of the phosphorus matches which I had brought from the barrel, laid them together upon the paper. I then, with the palm of my hand, rubbed the whole over quickly yet steadily. A clear light diffused itself immediately throughout the whole surface; and had there been any writing upon it, I should not have experienced the least difficulty, I am sure, in reading it. Not a syllable was there, however—nothing but a dreary and unsatisfactory blank; the illumination died away in a few seconds, and my heart died away within me as it went.
I couldn’t figure out what to do next. The hold was so pitch dark that I couldn’t even see my hand, no matter how close I held it to my face. The white slip of paper was barely visible, and not even that when I looked directly at it; by turning my gaze slightly to the side, I found it became somewhat perceptible. You can imagine how gloomy my prison was, and the note from my friend, if it truly was from him, seemed likely to only complicate things further, unnecessarily disturbing my already weakened and anxious mind. I spun around a bunch of ridiculous ideas in my head for getting some light—ideas much like what someone dictated by the disordered thoughts from opium might come up with for the same goal—each one of which seemed to the dreamer both reasonable and utterly absurd, as their reasoning or imagination flickers, one overtaking the other. Finally, a rational idea popped into my head, and I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it sooner. I placed the slip of paper on the back of a book and gathered the scraps of phosphorus matches I had brought from the barrel, laying them together on the paper. Then, I quickly but steadily rubbed my palm over the whole thing. A bright light instantly spread across the entire surface; if there had been any writing on it, I’m sure I wouldn’t have had the slightest trouble reading it. But there wasn’t a single word—just a dull, unsatisfying blank; the light faded in a matter of seconds, and with it, a sense of despair overcame me.
I have before stated more than once that my intellect, for some period prior to this, had been in a condition nearly bordering on idiocy. There were, to be sure, momentary intervals of perfect sanity, and, now and then, even of energy; but these were few. It must be remembered that I had been, for many days certainly, inhaling the almost pestilential atmosphere of a close hold in a whaling vessel, and a long portion of that time but scantily supplied with water. For the last fourteen or fifteen hours I had none—nor had I slept during that time. Salt provisions of the most exciting kind had been my chief, and, indeed, since the loss of the mutton, my only supply of food, with the exception of the sea-biscuit; and these latter were utterly useless to me, as they were too dry and hard to be swallowed in the swollen and parched condition of my throat. I was now in a high state of fever, and in every respect exceedingly ill. This will account for the fact that many miserable hours of despondency elapsed after my last adventure with the phosphorus, before the thought suggested itself that I had examined only one side of the paper. I shall not attempt to describe my feelings of rage (for I believe I was more angry than anything else) when the egregious oversight I had committed flashed suddenly upon my perception. The blunder itself would have been unimportant, had not my own folly and impetuosity rendered it otherwise—in my disappointment at not finding some words upon the slip, I had childishly torn it in pieces and thrown it away, it was impossible to say where.
I have mentioned more than once that my mind had been almost on the edge of insanity for some time before this. There were definitely brief moments of complete clarity and even some bursts of energy, but those were rare. It's important to note that I had been breathing the almost toxic air of a cramped whaling ship for many days, and for a long stretch of that time, I had barely any water. For the last fourteen or fifteen hours, I hadn’t had any water at all—and I hadn't slept during that period either. I had mostly been living on highly salted food, and since I’d run out of mutton, that was essentially my only source of sustenance, apart from hardtack. The hardtack was useless to me, as it was too dry and tough to swallow with my throat being so swollen and parched. I was currently in a serious fever and feeling extremely unwell. This explains why a lot of miserable hours of hopelessness passed after my last encounter with the phosphorus before I realized that I had only looked at one side of the paper. I won't even try to describe how furious I was (because I think I was more angry than anything else) when I suddenly realized the terrible mistake I had made. The mistake itself wouldn’t have been that significant if not for my own foolishness and rashness making it worse—in my disappointment at not finding any words on the slip, I had foolishly torn it into pieces and thrown it away, with no idea where it ended up.
From the worst part of this dilemma I was relieved by the sagacity of Tiger. Having got, after a long search, a small piece of the note, I put it to the dog's nose, and endeavoured to make him understand that he must bring me the rest of it. To my astonishment (for I had taught him none of the usual tricks for which his breed are famous), he seemed to enter at once into my meaning, and, rummaging about for a few moments, soon found another considerable portion. Bringing me this, he paused a while, and, rubbing his nose against my hand, appeared to be waiting for my approval of what he had done. I patted him on the head, when he immediately made off again. It was now some minutes before he came back—but when he did come, he brought with him a large slip, which proved to be all the paper missing—it having been torn, it seems, only into three pieces. Luckily, I had no trouble in finding what few fragments of the phosphorus were left—being guided by the indistinct glow one or two of the particles still emitted. My difficulties had taught me the necessity of caution, and I now took time to reflect upon what I was about to do. It was very probable, I considered, that some words were written upon that side of the paper which had not been examined—but which side was that? Fitting the pieces together gave me no clew in this respect, although it assured me that the words (if there were any) would be found all on one side, and connected in a proper manner, as written. There was the greater necessity of ascertaining the point in question beyond a doubt, as the phosphorus remaining would be altogether insufficient for a third attempt, should I fail in the one I was now about to make. I placed the paper on a book as before, and sat for some minutes thoughtfully revolving the matter over in my mind. At last I thought it barely possible that the written side might have some unevenness on its surface, which a delicate sense of feeling might enable me to detect. I determined to make the experiment, and passed my finger very carefully over the side which first presented itself—nothing, however, was perceptible, and I turned the paper, adjusting it on the book. I now again carried my forefinger cautiously along, when I was aware of an exceedingly slight, but still discernible glow, which followed as it proceeded. This, I knew, must arise from some very minute remaining particles of the phosphorus with which I had covered the paper in my previous attempt. The other, or under side, then, was that on which lay the writing, if writing there should finally prove to be. Again I turned the note, and went to work as I had previously done. Having rubbed in the phosphorus, a brilliancy ensued as before—but this time several lines of MS. in a large hand, and apparently in red ink, became distinctly visible. The glimmer, although sufficiently bright, was but momentary. Still, had I not been too greatly excited, there would have been ample time enough for me to peruse the whole three sentences before me—for I saw there were three. In my anxiety, however, to read all at once, I succeeded only in reading the seven concluding words, which thus appeared: "blood—your life depends upon lying close."
From the toughest part of this situation, I was helped by Tiger's cleverness. After a long search, I found a small piece of the note and held it up to the dog's nose, trying to make him understand that he needed to find the rest. To my surprise (since I hadn't taught him any of the usual tricks that his breed is known for), he seemed to get what I meant right away. After searching for a few moments, he quickly found another big piece. When he brought it to me, he paused for a moment, rubbing his nose against my hand, as if waiting for me to acknowledge what he had done. I patted him on the head, and he immediately took off again. It took him several minutes to return, but when he did, he came back with a large piece, which turned out to be all the missing paper—it had only been torn into three pieces. Luckily, I had no trouble finding the few fragments of phosphorus left, thanks to the faint glow one or two of the particles were still giving off. My challenges taught me to be cautious, so I took a moment to think about what I was about to do. I figured it was likely that some words were written on the side of the paper that hadn’t been checked—but which side was that? Fitting the pieces together didn't give me any clues, although I was assured the words (if there were any) would all be on one side, arranged as written. There was a greater need to be sure of which side it was, as the remaining phosphorus would be insufficient for a third attempt if I failed with this one. I placed the paper on a book as I had before and sat for several minutes, thoughtfully considering the matter. Finally, I thought it might be possible that the writing side had some unevenness that a sensitive touch could help me detect. I decided to try it, running my finger very carefully over the side that was facing up—nothing was noticeable, so I turned the paper around and adjusted it on the book. I again gently slid my fingertip along when I noticed a very faint, but still noticeable glow following my touch. I knew this had to be from some tiny leftover particles of phosphorus that I had used in my earlier attempt. So, the other side must be where the writing was, if there was writing at all. I flipped the note again and went to work just as I had done before. After rubbing in the phosphorus, it shone as before—but this time several lines of handwriting in a large style, apparently in red ink, became clearly visible. The glow, although bright enough, was only temporary. Still, if I hadn’t been so excited, there would have been more than enough time for me to read all three sentences in front of me—there were indeed three. However, in my eagerness to read everything at once, I managed to read only the last seven words, which said: "blood—your life depends upon lying close."
Had I been able to ascertain the entire contents of the note—the full meaning of the admonition which my friend had thus attempted to convey, that admonition, even although it should have revealed a story of disaster the most unspeakable, could not, I am firmly convinced, have imbued my mind with one tithe of the harrowing and yet indefinable horror with which I was inspired by the fragmentary warning thus received. And "blood" too, that word of all words—so rife at all times with mystery, and suffering, and terror—how trebly full of import did it now appear—how chillily and heavily (disjointed, as it thus was, from any foregoing words to qualify or render it distinct) did its vague syllables fall, amid the deep gloom of my prison, into the innermost recesses of my soul!
Had I been able to understand everything in the note—the complete meaning of the warning my friend was trying to convey—I'm convinced that even if it revealed the most unspeakable disaster, it wouldn't have filled my mind with even a fraction of the overwhelming and indescribable horror that the incomplete warning triggered in me. And the word "blood", more than any other—always loaded with mystery, suffering, and fear—now seemed even more significant. How cold and heavy its unclear syllables felt, disconnected from any previous words that could clarify them, as they echoed in the deep darkness of my prison, reaching the deepest parts of my soul!
Augustus had, undoubtedly, good reasons for wishing me to remain concealed, and I formed a thousand surmises as to what they could be—but I could think of nothing affording a satisfactory solution of the mystery. Just after returning from my last journey to the trap, and before my attention had been otherwise directed by the singular conduct of Tiger, I had come to the resolution of making myself heard at all events by those on board, or, if I could not succeed in this directly, of trying to cut my way through the orlop deck. The half certainty which I felt of being able to accomplish one of these two purposes in the last emergency, had given me courage (which I should not otherwise have had) to endure the evils of my situation. The few words I had been able to read, however, had cut me off from these final resources, and I now, for the first time, felt all the misery of my fate. In a paroxysm of despair I threw myself again upon the mattress, where, for about the period of a day and night, I lay in a kind of stupor, relieved only by momentary intervals of reason and recollection.
Augustus definitely had good reasons for wanting me to stay hidden, and I came up with a lot of ideas about what those reasons could be—but I couldn't come up with anything that really solved the mystery. Just after I got back from my last trip to the trap, and before I was distracted by Tiger's strange behavior, I had decided that I would make myself heard by those on board, or if that didn't work, I would try to cut my way through the orlop deck. The slight hope I had of being able to achieve one of those two things in a crisis had given me the courage (which I wouldn’t have had otherwise) to tolerate my situation. However, the few words I had managed to read had cut me off from these last options, and now, for the first time, I truly felt the depth of my misery. In a fit of despair, I threw myself back onto the mattress, where I lay in a sort of daze for about a day and night, only briefly interrupted by moments of clarity and memory.
At length I once more arose, and busied myself in reflection upon the horrors which encompassed me. For another twenty-four hours it was barely possible that I might exist without water—for a longer time I could not do so. During the first portion of my imprisonment I had made free use of the cordials with which Augustus had supplied me, but they only served to excite fever, without in the least degree assuaging my thirst. I had now only about a gill left, and this was of a species of strong peach liqueur at which my stomach revolted. The sausages were entirely consumed; of the ham nothing remained but a small piece of the skin; and all the biscuit, except a few fragments of one, had been eaten by Tiger. To add to my troubles, I found that my headache was increasing momentarily, and with it the species of delirium which had distressed me more or less since my first falling asleep. For some hours past it had been with the greatest difficulty I could breathe at all, and now each attempt at so doing was attended with the most distressing spasmodic action of the chest. But there was still another and very different source of disquietude, and one, indeed, whose harassing terrors had been the chief means of arousing me to exertion from my stupor on the mattress. It arose from the demeanour of the dog.
Eventually, I got up again and focused on the terrible situation surrounding me. I could last without water for another twenty-four hours at most—any longer than that would be impossible. During the early part of my confinement, I had consumed a lot of the drinks that Augustus had given me, but they only fueled my fever without quenching my thirst. Now I had about a gill left, and it was a type of strong peach liqueur that my stomach couldn't handle. The sausages were completely gone, and all that was left of the ham was a small piece of skin; Tiger had eaten nearly all the biscuits except for a few crumbs of one. To make matters worse, my headache was worsening, along with the kind of delirium that had been bothering me since I first fell asleep. I was already struggling to breathe for hours, and now each breath came with painful spasms in my chest. But there was another source of anxiety, one that had significantly jolted me out of my stupor on the mattress: the behavior of the dog.
I first observed an alteration in his conduct while rubbing in the phosphorus on the paper in my last attempt. As I rubbed, he ran his nose against my hand with a slight snarl; but I was too greatly excited at the time to pay much attention to the circumstance. Soon afterward, it will be remembered, I threw myself on the mattress, and fell into a species of lethargy. Presently I became aware of a singular hissing sound close at my ears, and discovered it to proceed from Tiger, who was panting and wheezing in a state of the greatest apparent excitement, his eyeballs flashing fiercely through the gloom. I spoke to him, when he replied with a low growl, and then remained quiet. Presently I relapsed into my stupor, from which I was again awakened in a similar manner. This was repeated three or four times, until finally his behaviour inspired me with so great a degree of fear that I became fully aroused. He was now lying close by the door of the box, snarling fearfully, although in a kind of under tone, and grinding his teeth as if strongly convulsed. I had no doubt whatever that the want of water or the confined atmosphere of the hold had driven him mad, and I was at a loss what course to pursue. I could not endure the thought of killing him, yet it seemed absolutely necessary for my own safety. I could distinctly perceive his eyes fastened upon me with an expression of the most deadly animosity, and I expected every instant that he would attack me. At last I could endure my terrible situation no longer, and determined to make my way from the box at all hazards, and despatch him, if his opposition should render it necessary for me to do so. To get out, I had to pass directly over his body, and he already seemed to anticipate my design—raising himself upon his fore legs (as I perceived by the altered position of his eyes), and displaying the whole of his white fangs, which were easily discernible. I took the remains of the ham-skin, and the bottle containing the liqueur, and secured them about my person, together with a large carving-knife which Augustus had left me—then, folding my cloak as closely around me as possible, I made a movement towards the mouth of the box. No sooner did I do this than the dog sprang with a loud growl towards my throat. The whole weight of his body struck me on the right shoulder, and I fell violently to the left, while the enraged animal passed entirely over me. I had fallen upon my knees, with my head buried among the blankets, and these protected me from a second furious assault, during which I felt the sharp teeth pressing vigorously upon the woollen which enveloped my neck—yet, luckily, without being able to penetrate all the folds. I was now beneath the dog, and a few moments would place me completely in his power. Despair gave me strength, and I rose bodily up, shaking him from me by main force, and dragging with me the blankets from the mattress. These I now threw over him, and before he could extricate himself I had got through the door and closed it effectually against his pursuit. In this struggle, however, I had been forced to drop the morsel of ham-skin, and I now found my whole stock of provisions reduced to a single gill of liqueur. As this reflection crossed my mind, I felt myself actuated by one of those fits of perverseness which might be supposed to influence a spoiled child in similar circumstances, and, raising the bottle to my lips, I drained it to the last drop, and dashed it furiously upon the floor.
I first noticed a change in his behavior while I was rubbing the phosphorus onto the paper during my last attempt. As I did this, he nudged my hand with a slight snarl, but I was too excited to really pay attention to it. Not long after, I threw myself onto the mattress and fell into a sort of stupor. Suddenly, I became aware of a strange hissing sound near my ears and realized it was coming from Tiger, who was panting and wheezing in a state of extreme agitation, his eyes wide and fierce in the dark. I spoke to him, and he responded with a low growl, then went silent. Before long, I slipped back into my daze, only to be jolted awake again in the same way. This happened three or four times, until finally his behavior filled me with such fear that I was fully alert. He was now lying close by the box's door, snarling ominously but in a muted tone, grinding his teeth as if deeply agitated. I was certain that the lack of water or the stifling air had driven him mad, and I had no idea what to do. The thought of having to kill him was unbearable, yet it felt essential for my own safety. I could clearly see his eyes locked on me with an intense hatred, and I expected him to attack at any moment. Eventually, I couldn’t stand my terrifying situation any longer and decided to escape from the box no matter what, even if it meant I would have to deal with him if necessary. To get out, I had to step over his body, and he already seemed to sense my plan—raising himself onto his forelegs (which I could tell by the change in his eye position) and showing all of his sharp white teeth. I took the leftover ham skin and the bottle of liqueur, securing them on my person along with a large carving knife that Augustus had left me. Then, wrapping my cloak tightly around me, I moved toward the box's opening. No sooner had I done this than the dog lunged at my throat with a loud growl. His full weight slammed into my right shoulder, sending me crashing to the left, while the furious animal leaped entirely over me. I ended up on my knees, with my head buried in the blankets, which protected me from a second vicious attack during which I felt his sharp teeth pressing hard against the wool around my neck—but luckily, they couldn’t penetrate all the layers. Now I was beneath the dog, and in a few moments, I would be completely at his mercy. Desperation gave me strength, and I pushed myself up, shaking him off with sheer force, dragging the blankets from the mattress with me. I quickly threw the blankets over him, and before he could get free, I slipped through the door and shut it firmly behind me to block him from chasing me. However, in the struggle, I had dropped the piece of ham skin and realized my entire supply of food was down to just a tiny bit of liqueur. As this thought crossed my mind, I was suddenly driven by one of those moments of stubbornness that you might expect from a spoiled child in similar situations. I raised the bottle to my lips, drank it all in one go, and then threw it down violently onto the floor.
Scarcely had the echo of the crash died away, when I heard my name pronounced in an eager but subdued voice, issuing from the direction of the steerage. So unexpected was anything of the kind, and so intense was the emotion excited within me by the sound, that I endeavoured in vain to reply. My powers of speech totally failed, and, in an agony of terror lest my friend should conclude me dead, and return without attempting to reach me, I stood up between the crates near the door of the box, trembling convulsively, and gasping and struggling for utterance. Had a thousand worlds depended upon a syllable, I could not have spoken it. There was a slight movement now audible among the lumber somewhere forward of my station. The sound presently grew less distinct, then again less so, and still less. Shall I ever forget my feelings at this moment? He was going—my friend—my companion, from whom I had a right to expect so much—he was going—he would abandon me—he was gone! He would leave me to perish miserably, to expire in the most horrible and loathsome of dungeons—and one word—one little syllable would save me—yet that single syllable I could not utter! I felt, I am sure, more than ten thousand times the agonies of death itself. My brain reeled, and I fell, deadly sick, against the end of the box.
As soon as the sound of the crash faded, I heard my name called in an eager but quiet voice coming from the direction of the steerage. It was so unexpected, and the emotion it stirred in me was so intense that I couldn't manage to respond at all. I completely lost my ability to speak, and in a panic that my friend would think I was dead and leave without trying to find me, I stood up between the crates near the box door, shaking uncontrollably, gasping and struggling to find my voice. Even if my life depended on it, I couldn't say a single word. I could hear a slight movement among the debris somewhere in front of me. The sound got fainter, then even less distinct, until it was barely there. Will I ever forget how I felt in that moment? He was leaving—my friend—my companion, from whom I had every right to expect so much—he was leaving—he would abandon me—he was gone! He would leave me to suffer in misery, to die in the most horrific and disgusting of dungeons—and one word—just one little syllable could save me—yet I could not say that syllable! I felt, without a doubt, more than ten thousand times the agony of death itself. My mind spun, and I collapsed, feeling deathly sick, against the end of the box.
As I fell, the carving-knife was shaken out from the waistband of my pantaloons, and dropped with a rattling sound to the floor. Never did any strain of the richest melody come so sweetly to my ears! With the intensest anxiety I listened to ascertain the effect of the noise upon Augustus—for I knew that the person who called my name could be no one but himself. All was silent for some moments. At length I again heard the word Arthur! repeated in a low tone, and one full of hesitation. Reviving hope loosened at once my powers of speech, and I now screamed, at the top of my voice, "Augustus! oh Augustus!" "Hush—for God's sake be silent!" he replied, in a voice trembling with agitation; "I will be with you immediately—as soon as I can make my way through the hold." For a long time I heard him moving among the lumber, and every moment seemed to me an age. At length I felt his hand upon my shoulder, and he placed at the same moment a bottle of water to my lips. Those only who have been suddenly redeemed from the jaws of the tomb, or who have known the insufferable torments of thirst under circumstances as aggravated as those which encompassed me in my dreary prison, can form any idea of the unutterable transports which that one long draught of the richest of all physical luxuries afforded.
As I fell, the carving knife was jolted out of my waistband and hit the floor with a clatter. No melody had ever sounded so sweet to my ears! With intense worry, I listened to see how Augustus reacted to the noise—because I knew the person calling my name had to be him. There was silence for a few moments. Finally, I heard the word Arthur! spoken softly, filled with hesitation. Renewed hope unlocked my ability to speak, and I shouted at the top of my lungs, "Augustus! oh Augustus!" "Hush—for God's sake, be quiet!" he replied, his voice trembling with emotion; "I’ll be with you right away—as soon as I can get through the hold." For what felt like forever, I heard him shuffling through the clutter, and each moment felt like an eternity. Finally, I felt his hand on my shoulder, and at the same time, he brought a bottle of water to my lips. Only those who have been suddenly saved from death, or who have experienced the unbearable agony of thirst in situations as extreme as those in my grim prison, can understand the indescribable relief that one long sip of the most basic luxury provided.
When I had in some degree satisfied my thirst, Augustus produced from his pocket three or four cold boiled potatoes, which I devoured with the greatest avidity. He had brought with him a light in a dark lantern, and the grateful rays afforded me scarcely less comfort than the food and drink. But I was impatient to learn the cause of his protracted absence, and he proceeded to recount what had happened on board during my incarceration.
When I had quenched my thirst a bit, Augustus pulled out three or four cold boiled potatoes from his pocket, which I quickly devoured. He also brought a light in a dark lantern, and the comforting glow helped me almost as much as the food and drink. But I was eager to find out why he had been gone for so long, so he started to explain what had happened on board while I was locked up.
CHAPTER IV.
The brig put to sea, as I had supposed, in about an hour after he had left the watch. This was on the twentieth of June. It will be remembered that I had then been in the hold for three days; and, during this period, there was so constant a bustle on board, and so much running to and fro, especially in the cabin and staterooms, that he had had no chance of visiting me without the risk of having the secret of the trap discovered. When at length he did come, I had assured him that I was doing as well as possible; and, therefore, for the two next days he felt but little uneasiness on my account—still, however, watching an opportunity of going down. It was not until the fourth day that he found one. Several times during this interval he had made up his mind to let his father know of the adventure, and have me come up at once; but we were still within reaching distance of Nantucket, and it was doubtful, from some expressions which had escaped Captain Barnard, whether he would not immediately put back if he discovered me to be on board. Besides, upon thinking the matter over, Augustus, so he told me, could not imagine that I was in immediate want, or that I would hesitate, in such case, to make myself heard at the trap. When, therefore, he considered everything, he concluded to let me stay until he could meet with an opportunity of visiting me unobserved. This, as I said before, did not occur until the fourth day after his bringing me the watch, and the seventh since I had first entered the hold. He then went down without taking with him any water or provisions, intending in the first place merely to call my attention, and get me to come from the box to the trap—when he would go up to the stateroom and thence hand me down a supply. When he descended for this purpose he found that I was asleep, for it seems that I was snoring very loudly. From all the calculations I can make on the subject, this must have been the slumber into which I fell just after my return from the trap with the watch, and which, consequently, must have lasted for more than three entire days and nights at the very least. Latterly, I have had reason, both from my own experience and the assurance of others, to be acquainted with the strong soporific effects of the stench arising from old fish-oil when closely confined; and when I think of the condition of the hold in which I was imprisoned, and the long period during which the brig had been used as a whaling vessel, I am more inclined to wonder that I awoke at all, after once falling asleep, than that I should have slept uninterruptedly for the period specified above.
The ship set sail, just as I thought, about an hour after he left watch. This was on June 20th. It’s important to remember that I had been in the hold for three days by then; during that time, there was so much activity on board and so many people running around, especially in the cabin and staterooms, that he couldn’t visit me without risking the discovery of the trap. When he finally came down, I assured him I was doing as well as I could, so for the next two days, he didn’t worry much about me—still looking for a chance to come down. It wasn’t until the fourth day that he found a moment. Several times during that interval, he thought about telling his father about the situation and bringing me up right away; however, since we were still close to Nantucket, he wasn’t sure what Captain Barnard would do if he found out I was on board. Plus, after thinking it over, Augustus told me he couldn’t believe I was in urgent need, or that I would hesitate to make my presence known at the trap if that were the case. So, after considering everything, he decided to let me stay until he could find a chance to visit me without being seen. As I mentioned earlier, that chance didn’t come until the fourth day after he brought me the watch, and the seventh since I had entered the hold. He went down without taking any water or food, planning just to get my attention and call me from the box to the trap—then he would go up to the stateroom and hand me down some supplies. When he came down for that purpose, he found that I was asleep; apparently, I was snoring quite loudly. Based on what I can figure, this must have been the sleep I fell into right after returning from the trap with the watch, which must have lasted for more than three full days and nights at the very least. Recently, I’ve come to understand, both from my own experience and what others have told me, the powerful sedative effects of the smell from old fish oil when you’re confined closely. Considering the state of the hold where I was trapped and how long the brig had been a whaling vessel, I’m more surprised that I woke up at all after falling asleep, rather than that I slept so soundly for the time I did.
Augustus called to me at first in a low voice and without closing the trap—but I made him no reply. He then shut the trap, and spoke to me in a louder, and finally in a very loud tone—still I continued to snore. He was now at a loss what to do. It would take him some time to make his way through the lumber to my box, and in the mean while his absence would be noticed by Captain Barnard, who had occasion for his services every minute, in arranging and copying papers connected with the business of the voyage. He determined, therefore, upon reflection, to ascend, and await another opportunity of visiting me. He was the more easily induced to this resolve, as my slumber appeared to be of the most tranquil nature, and he could not suppose that I had undergone any inconvenience from my incarceration. He had just made up his mind on these points when his attention was arrested by an unusual bustle, the sound of which proceeded apparently from the cabin. He sprang through the trap as quickly as possible, closed it, and threw open the door of his stateroom. No sooner had he put his foot over the threshold than a pistol flashed in his face, and he was knocked down, at the same moment, by a blow from a handspike.
Augustus first called to me in a quiet voice without closing the trap, but I didn't respond. He then shut the trap and spoke to me louder, and finally in a very loud voice—still, I kept snoring. He was unsure about what to do next. It would take him some time to navigate through the clutter to reach my box, and meanwhile, Captain Barnard would notice his absence, as he needed Augustus's help every minute to organize and copy papers related to the voyage. After thinking it over, he decided to go up and wait for another chance to see me. It was easier for him to make this choice since I seemed to be in a deep, peaceful sleep, and he didn't think I was suffering from being locked up. Just as he settled on this decision, he was distracted by a commotion that seemed to be coming from the cabin. He quickly jumped through the trap, closed it, and opened the door to his stateroom. No sooner had he stepped over the threshold than a pistol was fired in his face, and he was knocked down by a blow from a handspike.
A strong hand held him on the cabin floor, with a tight grasp upon his throat—still he was able to see what was going on around him. His father was tied hand and foot, and lying along the steps of the companion-way with his head down, and a deep wound in the forehead, from which the blood was flowing in a continued stream. He spoke not a word, and was apparently dying. Over him stood the first mate, eying him with an expression of fiendish derision, and deliberately searching his pockets, from which he presently drew forth a large wallet and a chronometer. Seven of the crew (among whom was the cook, a negro) were rummaging the staterooms on the larboard for arms, where they soon equipped themselves with muskets and ammunition. Besides Augustus and Captain Barnard, there were nine men altogether in the cabin, and these among the most ruffianly of the brig's company. The villains now went upon deck, taking my friend with them, after having secured his arms behind his back. They proceeded straight to the forecastle, which was fastened down—two of the mutineers standing by it with axes—two also at the main hatch. The mate called out in a loud voice, "Do you hear there below? tumble up with you—one by one, now, mark that—and no grumbling." It was some minutes before any one appeared: at last an Englishman, who had shipped as a raw hand, came up, weeping piteously, and entreating the mate in the most humble manner to spare his life. The only reply was a blow on the forehead from an axe. The poor fellow fell to the deck without a groan, and the black cook lifted him up in his arms as he would a child, and tossed him deliberately into the sea. Hearing the blow and the plunge of the body, the men below could now be induced to venture on deck neither by threats nor promises, until a proposition was made to smoke them out. A general rush then ensued, and for a moment it seemed possible that the brig might be retaken. The mutineers, however, succeeded at last in closing the forecastle effectually before more than six of their opponents could get up. These six, finding themselves so greatly outnumbered and without arms, submitted after a brief struggle. The mate gave them fair words—no doubt with a view of inducing those below to yield, for they had no difficulty in hearing all that was said on deck. The result proved his sagacity, no less than his diabolical villany. All in the forecastle presently signified their intention of submitting, and, ascending one by one, were pinioned and thrown on their backs together with the first six—there being in all, of the crew who were not concerned in the mutiny, twenty-seven.
A strong hand held him down on the cabin floor, with a tight grip on his throat—still, he was able to see what was happening around him. His father was tied up, laying on the steps of the companionway with his head down, and a deep wound on his forehead from which blood was flowing continuously. He didn’t say a word and seemed to be dying. The first mate stood over him, looking at him with a cruel smirk, deliberately searching his pockets, from which he soon pulled out a large wallet and a watch. Seven crew members (including the cook, who was black) were rummaging through the staterooms on the left side for weapons, and they quickly armed themselves with muskets and ammunition. Besides Augustus and Captain Barnard, nine men were in the cabin, and they were among the most ruthless of the brig's crew. The villains went on deck, taking my friend with them after they had tied his hands behind his back. They headed straight for the forecastle, which was secured—two of the mutineers stood by it with axes—two others at the main hatch. The mate shouted loudly, "Do you hear down there? Come up one by one, now, remember that—and no complaining." It took several minutes before anyone appeared: finally, an Englishman who had joined as a novice came up, crying desperately, begging the mate in the most humble way to spare his life. The only response was a blow to his forehead from an axe. The poor guy collapsed on the deck without a sound, and the black cook picked him up like a child and casually tossed him into the sea. Hearing the blow and the splash of the body, those below were not persuaded to come on deck by threats or promises until someone suggested smoking them out. A rush followed, and for a moment it seemed possible that the brig might be retaken. However, the mutineers managed to close the forecastle before more than six of their opponents could get up. These six, realizing they were outnumbered and unarmed, surrendered after a brief struggle. The mate spoke to them kindly—likely to encourage those below to surrender, as they could hear everything said on deck. The outcome showed both his cleverness and his wickedness. Soon, all in the forecastle indicated they wanted to surrender and came up one by one, being tied up and thrown on their backs along with the first six—there were twenty-seven crew members in total who were not involved in the mutiny.
A scene of the most horrible butchery ensued. The bound seamen were dragged to the gangway. Here the cook stood with an axe, striking each victim on the head as he was forced over the side of the vessel by the other mutineers. In this manner twenty-two perished, and Augustus had given himself up for lost, expecting every moment his own turn to come next. But it seemed that the villains were now either weary, or in some measure disgusted with their bloody labour; for the four remaining prisoners, together with my friend, who had been thrown on the deck with the rest, were respited while the mate sent below for rum, and the whole murderous party held a drunken carouse, which lasted until sunset. They now fell to disputing in regard to the fate of the survivers, who lay not more than four paces off, and could distinguish every word said. Upon some of the mutineers the liquor appeared to have a softening effect, for several voices were heard in favour of releasing the captives altogether, on condition of joining the mutiny and sharing the profits. The black cook, however (who in all respects was a perfect demon, and who seemed to exert as much influence, if not more, than the mate himself), would listen to no proposition of the kind, and rose repeatedly for the purpose of resuming his work at the gangway. Fortunately, he was so far overcome by intoxication as to be easily restrained by the less bloodthirsty of the party, among whom was a line-manager, who went by the name of Dirk Peters. This man was the son of an Indian squaw of the tribe of Upsarokas, who live among the fastnesses of the Black Hills near the source of the Missouri. His father was a fur-trader, I believe, or at least connected in some manner with the Indian trading-posts on Lewis river. Peters himself was one of the most purely ferocious-looking men I ever beheld. He was short in stature—not more than four feet eight inches high—but his limbs were of the most Herculean mould. His hands, especially, were so enormously thick and broad as hardly to retain a human shape. His arms, as well as legs, were bowed in the most singular manner, and appeared to possess no flexibility whatever. His head was equally deformed, being of immense size, with an indentation on the crown (like that on the head of most negroes), and entirely bald. To conceal this latter deficiency, which did not proceed from old age, he usually wore a wig formed of any hair-like material which presented itself—occasionally the skin of a Spanish dog or American grizzly bear. At the time spoken of he had on a portion of one of these bearskins; and it added no little to the natural ferocity of his countenance, which betook of the Upsaroka character. The mouth extended nearly from ear to ear; the lips were thin, and seemed, like some other portions of his frame, to be devoid of natural pliancy, so that the ruling expression never varied under the influence of any emotion whatever. This ruling expression may be conceived when it is considered that the teeth were exceedingly long and protruding, and never even partially covered, in any instance, by the lips. To pass this man with a casual glance, one might imagine him to be convulsed with laughter—but a second look would induce a shuddering acknowledgment, that if such an expression were indicative of merriment, the merriment must be that of a demon. Of this singular being many anecdotes were prevalent among the seafaring men of Nantucket. These anecdotes went to prove his prodigious strength when under excitement, and some of them had given rise to a doubt of his sanity. But on board the Grampus, it seems, he was regarded at the time of the mutiny with feelings more of derision than of anything else. I have been thus particular in speaking of Dirk Peters, because, ferocious as he appeared, he proved the main instrument in preserving the life of Augustus, and because I shall have frequent occasion to mention him hereafter in the course of my narrative—a narrative, let me here say, which, in its latter portions, will be found to include incidents of a nature so entirely out of the range of human experience, and for this reason so far beyond the limits of human credulity, that I proceed in utter hopelessness of obtaining credence for all that I shall tell, yet confidently trusting in time and progressing science to verify some of the most important and most improbable of my statements.
A scene of horrific slaughter unfolded. The tied-up sailors were dragged to the gangway. Here, the cook stood with an axe, striking each victim on the head as they were forced over the side of the ship by the other mutineers. In this way, twenty-two died, and Augustus thought he was done for, expecting to be next any moment. But it seemed the villains had grown either tired or somewhat disgusted with their bloody task; the four remaining prisoners, along with my friend, who had been thrown on the deck with the others, were spared while the mate sent below for rum, and the whole murderous group held a drunken party that lasted until sunset. They then began arguing about the fate of the survivors, who were not more than four paces away and could hear every word. For some of the mutineers, the alcohol seemed to soften them, as several voices were heard suggesting that the captives be released altogether, on the condition that they join the mutiny and share the spoils. However, the black cook, who was a true monster and seemed to have as much, if not more, influence than the mate himself, wouldn't consider any such proposal and repeatedly got up to resume his work at the gangway. Fortunately, he was so drunk that he could easily be held back by the less bloodthirsty members of the group, including a deckhand known as Dirk Peters. This man was the son of an Indian woman from the Upsaroka tribe, who lived in the Black Hills near the Missouri's source. I believe his father was a fur trader or at least involved in the Indian trading posts along the Lewis River. Peters was one of the most ferociously intimidating men I had ever seen. He was short—only about four feet eight inches tall—but had limbs that were incredibly muscular. His hands, in particular, were so thick and broad that they barely resembled human hands. His arms and legs were oddly shaped, appearing completely stiff. His head was equally deformed, enormous in size, with a dent on the crown (like many black people), and completely bald. To hide this lack of hair, which wasn’t due to old age, he usually wore a wig made of any available hair-like material—sometimes the skin of a Spanish dog or American grizzly bear. At that time, he had on a piece of bear skin, which added to the already fierce look on his face, giving it an Upsaroka twist. His mouth stretched nearly from ear to ear, his lips were thin and, like some other parts of his body, seemed devoid of natural flexibility, so his main expression never changed, regardless of his emotions. This main expression can be imagined, considering his teeth were very long and protruding, never even partially covered by his lips. At first glance, you might think he was laughing, but a second look would give you chills, making you realize that if such a look indicated happiness, then it must be the laughter of a demon. Many stories about this eerie character circulated among the sailors of Nantucket. These tales illustrated his tremendous strength when excited and some even cast doubt on his sanity. But on board the Grampus during the mutiny, he was looked upon more with mockery than anything else. I've gone into detail about Dirk Peters because, ferocious as he seemed, he was the key player in saving Augustus's life, and I will mention him frequently in my story—a story, I must say now, that will include events so far outside human experience and, for that reason, so beyond human belief, that I write with no hope of being believed for everything I recount, yet I confidently trust that time and advancing science will validate some of my most crucial and unbelievable claims.
After much indecision and two or three violent quarrels, it was determined at last that all the prisoners (with the exception of Augustus, whom Peters insisted in a jocular manner upon keeping as his clerk) should be set adrift in one of the smallest whaleboats. The mate went down into the cabin to see if Captain Barnard was still living—for, it will be remembered, he was left below when the mutineers came up. Presently the two made their appearance, the captain pale as death, but somewhat recovered from the effects of his wound. He spoke to the men in a voice hardly articulate, entreated them not to set him adrift, but to return to their duty, and promising to land them wherever they chose, and to take no steps for bringing them to justice. He might as well have spoken to the winds. Two of the ruffians seized him by the arms and hurled him over the brig's side into the boat, which had been lowered while the mate went below. The four men who were lying on the deck were then untied and ordered to follow, which they did without attempting any resistance—Augustus being still left in his painful position, although he struggled and prayed only for the poor satisfaction of being permitted to bid his father farewell. A handful of sea-biscuit and a jug of water were now handed down; but neither mast, sail, oar, nor compass. The boat was towed astern for a few minutes, during which the mutineers held another consultation—it was then finally cut adrift. By this time night had come on—there were neither moon nor stars visible—and a short and ugly sea was running, although there was no great deal of wind. The boat was instantly out of sight, and little hope could be entertained for the unfortunate sufferers who were in it. This event happened, however, in latitude 35° 30' north, longitude 61° 20' west, and consequently at no very great distance from the Bermuda Islands. Augustus therefore endeavoured to console himself with the idea that the boat might either succeed in reaching the land, or come sufficiently near to be fallen in with by vessels off the coast.
After a lot of back and forth and a couple of heated arguments, it was finally decided that all the prisoners (except for Augustus, whom Peters playfully insisted on keeping as his clerk) should be set adrift in one of the smallest whaleboats. The mate went down to the cabin to check if Captain Barnard was still alive—for, as you might recall, he was left below when the mutineers took over. Soon, the two appeared, the captain looking pale as a ghost but somewhat better from his injury. He spoke to the men in a barely understandable voice, begging them not to abandon him, but to return to their duties, promising to take them wherever they wanted and to refrain from seeking justice against them. He might as well have been talking to the wind. Two of the thugs grabbed him by the arms and threw him over the side of the brig into the boat, which had been lowered while the mate was below. The four men lying on the deck were then untied and told to follow, which they did without resisting—Augustus was still left in his painful situation, despite struggling and praying just for the small mercy of being allowed to say goodbye to his father. A handful of sea-biscuit and a jug of water were handed down, but there were no mast, sail, oar, or compass. The boat was towed behind for a few minutes while the mutineers held another discussion—it was then finally set adrift. By this time, night had fallen—there were no moon or stars visible—and a short, choppy sea was rolling, although there wasn't much wind. The boat quickly disappeared from sight, and hope was slim for the unfortunate souls in it. This event, however, took place at latitude 35° 30' north, longitude 61° 20' west, and was not far from the Bermuda Islands. Therefore, Augustus tried to comfort himself with the idea that the boat might either reach land or come close enough to be spotted by vessels along the coast.
All sail was now put upon the brig, and she continued her original course to the southwest—the mutineers being bent upon some piratical expedition, in which, from all that could be understood, a ship was to be intercepted on her way from the Cape Verd Islands to Porto Rico. No attention was paid to Augustus, who was untied and suffered to go about anywhere forward of the cabin companion-way. Dirk Peters treated him with some degree of kindness, and on one occasion saved him from the brutality of the cook. His situation was still one of the most precarious, as the men were continually intoxicated, and there was no relying upon their continued good-humour or carelessness in regard to himself. His anxiety on my account he represented, however, as the most distressing result of his condition; and, indeed, I had never reason to doubt the sincerity of his friendship. More than once he had resolved to acquaint the mutineers with the secret of my being on board, but was restrained from so doing, partly through recollection of the atrocities he had already beheld, and partly through a hope of being able soon to bring me relief. For the latter purpose he was constantly on the watch; but, in spite of the most constant vigilance, three days elapsed after the boat was cut adrift before any chance occurred. At length, on the night of the third day, there came on a heavy blow from the eastward, and all hands were called up to take in sail. During the confusion which ensued, he made his way below unobserved, and into the stateroom. What was his grief and horror in discovering that the latter had been rendered a place of deposite for a variety of sea-stores and ship-furniture, and that several fathoms of old chain-cable, which had been stowed away beneath the companion-ladder, had been dragged thence to make room for a chest, and were now lying immediately upon the trap! To remove it without discovery was impossible, and he returned on deck as quickly as he could. As he came up the mate seized him by the throat, and demanding what he had been doing in the cabin, was about flinging him over the larboard bulwark, when his life was again preserved through the interference of Dirk Peters. Augustus was now put in handcuffs (of which there were several pairs on board), and his feet lashed tightly together. He was then taken into the steerage, and thrown into a lower berth next to the forecastle bulkheads, with the assurance that he should never put his foot on deck again "until the brig was no longer a brig." This was the expression of the cook, who threw him into the berth—it is hardly possible to say what precise meaning was intended by the phrase. The whole affair, however, proved the ultimate means of my relief, as will presently appear.
All sails were set on the brig, and she continued her initial path southwest—the mutineers were determined to carry out some kind of pirate mission, likely to intercept a ship traveling from the Cape Verde Islands to Puerto Rico. No one paid any attention to Augustus, who was untied and allowed to move around anywhere in front of the cabin entrance. Dirk Peters treated him with some kindness and even saved him from the cook's cruelty on one occasion. However, Augustus’s situation remained extremely dangerous, as the men were often drunk, and he couldn't count on their constant good nature or lack of attention toward him. He expressed that his worry about me was the most distressing part of his situation; indeed, I had never doubted the sincerity of his friendship. More than once, he considered telling the mutineers about my presence on board but was held back, partly because of the terrible things he had already witnessed and partly because he hoped to find a way to rescue me soon. He was always on the lookout for that opportunity, but despite his vigilance, three days went by after the lifeboat was cast off before any chance appeared. Finally, on the night of the third day, a strong wind came from the east, and everyone was called to take in the sails. In the resulting chaos, he slipped below deck unnoticed and headed to the stateroom. To his dismay and horror, he found it had been turned into a storage area for various supplies and ship equipment, and several lengths of old chain cable, which had been stowed beneath the companion ladder, had been pulled out to make room for a chest and were now lying directly on the trapdoor! It was impossible to remove it without being noticed, so he quickly returned on deck. As he emerged, the mate grabbed him by the throat and, demanding to know what he had been doing in the cabin, almost hurled him over the side, but Dirk Peters intervened and saved his life again. Augustus was then handcuffed (they had several pairs on board) and his feet tightly bound. He was taken to the steerage and thrown into a lower bunk next to the forecastle bulkheads, with the claim that he would never set foot on deck again "until the brig was no longer a brig." This was what the cook said as he threw him into the bunk—it’s hard to know exactly what he meant by that. However, this whole situation ultimately led to my rescue, as will soon be revealed.
CHAPTER V.
For some minutes after the cook had left the forecastle, Augustus abandoned himself to despair, never hoping to leave the berth alive. He now came to the resolution of acquainting the first of the men who should come down with my situation, thinking it better to let me take my chance with the mutineers than perish of thirst in the hold—for it had been ten days since I was first imprisoned, and my jug of water was not a plentiful supply even for four. As he was thinking on this subject, the idea came all at once into his head that it might be possible to communicate with me by the way of the main hold. In any other circumstances, the difficulty and hazard of the undertaking would have prevented him from attempting it; but now he had, at all events, little prospect of life, and consequently little to lose—he bent his whole mind, therefore, upon the task.
For several minutes after the cook left the forecastle, Augustus sank into despair, believing he wouldn't survive in the bunk. He decided he needed to tell the first crew member who came down about my situation, figuring it was better to take my chances with the mutineers than die of thirst in the hold—after all, it had been ten days since I was first locked up, and my jug of water wasn't enough even for four people. While he was thinking about this, the idea suddenly struck him that he might be able to communicate with me through the main hold. Under different circumstances, the difficulty and danger of the task would have stopped him from trying it; but now, with very little chance of survival, he had little to lose—so he focused all his energy on the task at hand.
His handcuffs were the first consideration. At first he saw no method of removing them, and feared that he should thus be baffled in the very outset; but, upon a closer scrutiny, he discovered that the irons could be slipped off and on at pleasure with very little effort or inconvenience, merely by squeezing his hands through them—this species of manacle being altogether ineffectual in confining young persons, in whom the smaller bones readily yield to pressure. He now untied his feet, and, leaving the cord in such a manner that it could easily be readjusted in the event of any person's coming down, proceeded to examine the bulkhead where it joined the berth. The partition here was of soft pine board, an inch thick, and he saw that he should have little trouble in cutting his way through. A voice was now heard at the forecastle companion-way, and he had just time to put his right hand into its handcuff (the left had not been removed), and to draw the rope in a slipknot around his ankle, when Dirk Peters came below, followed by Tiger, who immediately leaped into the berth and lay down. The dog had been brought on board by Augustus, who knew my attachment to the animal, and thought it would give me pleasure to have him with me during the voyage. He went up to our house for him immediately after first taking me into the hold, but did not think of mentioning the circumstance upon his bringing the watch. Since the mutiny, Augustus had not seen him before his appearance with Dirk Peters, and had given him up for lost, supposing him to have been thrown overboard by some of the malignant villains belonging to the mate's gang. It appeared afterward that he had crawled into a hole beneath a whaleboat, from which, not having room to turn round, he could not extricate himself. Peters at last let him out, and with a species of good feeling which my friend knew well how to appreciate, had now brought him to him in the forecastle as a companion, leaving at the same time some salt junk and potatoes, with a can of water; he then went on deck, promising to come down with something more to eat on the next day.
His handcuffs were the first thing he considered. Initially, he couldn’t see a way to get them off and worried that he would be stuck right from the start. But on closer inspection, he realized that he could easily slip the cuffs on and off by squeezing his hands through them—this type of restraint was pretty ineffective for young people, whose smaller bones could easily bend under pressure. He then untied his feet, leaving the cord in a way that would make it easy to retie if someone came down. Next, he looked at the bulkhead where it met the berth. The wall was made of soft pine board, an inch thick, and he figured he wouldn't have much trouble cutting his way through. Just then, he heard a voice coming from the forecastle stairs, and he quickly put his right hand into the handcuff (the left one was still on) and tied a slipknot around his ankle when Dirk Peters came below, followed by Tiger, who immediately jumped into the berth and lay down. The dog had been brought on board by Augustus, who knew I was attached to the animal and thought it would be nice for me to have him during the voyage. Augustus went to our house right after first taking me into the hold to get him but didn’t mention it when he brought the watch. Since the mutiny, Augustus hadn’t seen Tiger before he showed up with Dirk Peters and had given him up for lost, thinking he had been thrown overboard by some of the nasty guys in the mate's gang. Later, it turned out that Tiger had crawled into a hole beneath a whaleboat and couldn’t get out because he didn’t have enough space to turn around. Eventually, Peters helped him out and, in a kind gesture that my friend would truly appreciate, brought him to the forecastle as a companion, also leaving some salt junk and potatoes, along with a can of water. He then went back on deck, promising to come down with more food the next day.
When he had gone, Augustus freed both hands from the manacles and unfastened his feet. He then turned down the head of the mattress on which he had been lying, and with his penknife (for the ruffians had not thought it worth while to search him) commenced cutting vigorously across one of the partition planks, as closely as possible to the floor of the berth. He chose to cut here, because, if suddenly interrupted, he would be able to conceal what had been done by letting the head of the mattress fall into its proper position. For the remainder of the day, however, no disturbance occurred, and by night he had completely divided the plank. It should here be observed, that none of the crew occupied the forecastle as a sleeping-place, living altogether in the cabin since the mutiny, drinking the wines, and feasting on the sea stores of Captain Barnard, and giving no more heed than was absolutely necessary to the navigation of the brig. These circumstances proved fortunate both for myself and Augustus; for, had matters been otherwise, he would have found it impossible to reach me. As it was, he proceeded with confidence in his design. It was near daybreak, however, before he completed the second division of the board (which was about a foot above the first cut), thus making an aperture quite large enough to admit his passage through with facility to the main orlop deck. Having got here, he made his way with but little trouble to the lower main hatch, although in so doing he had to scramble over tiers of oil-casks piled nearly as high as the upper deck, there being barely room enough left for his body. Upon reaching the hatch, he found that Tiger had followed him below, squeezing between two rows of the casks. It was now too late, however, to attempt getting to me before dawn, as the chief difficulty lay in passing through the close stowage in the lower hold. He therefore resolved to return, and wait till the next night. With this design he proceeded to loosen the hatch, so that he might have as little detention as possible when he should come again. No sooner had he loosened it than Tiger sprang eagerly to the small opening produced, snuffed for a moment, and then uttered a long whine, scratching at the same time, as if anxious to remove the covering with his paws. There could be no doubt, from his behaviour, that he was aware of my being in the hold, and Augustus thought it possible that he would be able to get to me if he put him down. He now hit upon the expedient of sending the note, as it was especially desirable that I should make no attempt at forcing my way out, at least under existing circumstances, and there could be no certainty of his getting to me himself on the morrow as he intended. After events proved how fortunate it was that the idea occurred to him as it did: for, had it not been for the receipt of the note, I should undoubtedly have fallen upon some plan, however desperate, of alarming the crew, and both our lives would most probably have been sacrificed in consequence.
When he left, Augustus got both his hands free from the handcuffs and unfastened his feet. He then flipped down the head of the mattress he had been lying on, and with his penknife (since the thugs hadn’t thought to search him) he started cutting vigorously across one of the partition boards, as close to the floor of the berth as he could. He chose this spot to cut because, if he was interrupted, he could hide what he’d done by letting the head of the mattress fall back into place. For the rest of the day, though, nothing disturbed him, and by night, he had completely cut the plank. It's worth noting that none of the crew used the forecastle as a sleeping area, as they had all moved to the cabin after the mutiny, drinking the wine and feasting on Captain Barnard's provisions, paying only minimal attention to navigating the brig. This situation worked out well for both Augustus and me; if it had been different, he would have found it impossible to reach me. As it stood, he confidently continued with his plan. It was just before dawn when he finished cutting through the second board (which was about a foot above the first cut), creating an opening wide enough for him to easily pass through to the main orlop deck. Once there, he had little trouble getting to the lower main hatch, even though he had to climb over stacks of oil barrels piled almost to the upper deck, leaving barely enough room for him to slip through. When he reached the hatch, he found that Tiger had followed him below, squeezing between two rows of barrels. However, it was now too late to try and get to me before daybreak since the main challenge was maneuvering through the tightly packed lower hold. So, he decided to go back and wait until the next night. With that plan in mind, he started to loosen the hatch so he would have as little delay as possible when he returned. As soon as he loosened it, Tiger eagerly jumped to the small opening, sniffed for a moment, and then let out a long whine while scratching, as if eager to remove the cover with his paws. There was no doubt from his behavior that he knew I was in the hold, and Augustus thought he might be able to get to me if he let Tiger down. He then came up with the idea of sending a note, since it was especially important that I not try to force my way out, at least given the current situation, and there was no guarantee he could reach me the next day as planned. Later events showed just how lucky it was that he thought of this: without receiving the note, I would have undoubtedly tried some desperate plan to alert the crew, and it likely would have cost us both our lives.
Having concluded to write, the difficulty was now to procure the materials for so doing. An old toothpick was soon made into a pen; and this by means of feeling altogether, for the between-decks were as dark as pitch. Paper enough was obtained from the back of a letter—a duplicate of the forged letter from Mr. Ross. This had been the original draught; but the handwriting not being sufficiently well imitated, Augustus had written another, thrusting the first, by good fortune, into his coat-pocket, where it was now most opportunely discovered. Ink alone was thus wanting, and a substitute was immediately found for this by means of a slight incision with the penknife on the back of a finger just above the nail—a copious flow of blood ensuing, as usual from wounds in that vicinity. The note was now written, as well as it could be in the dark and under the circumstances. It briefly explained that a mutiny had taken place; that Captain Barnard was set adrift; and that I might expect immediate relief as far as provisions were concerned, but must not venture upon making any disturbance. It concluded with these words, "I have scrawled this with blood—your life depends upon lying close."
Having decided to write, the next challenge was to gather the materials to do so. An old toothpick was quickly turned into a pen, and this was made possible by feeling around since the space below decks was as dark as pitch. I found enough paper from the back of a letter—a duplicate of the forged letter from Mr. Ross. This was the original draft, but since the handwriting wasn’t a good match, Augustus had written another version and luckily tucked the first one into his coat pocket, where it was now conveniently found. The only thing missing was ink, but that was easily resolved with a small cut from a penknife on the back of a finger just above the nail, which bled as it usually does in that area. The note was now written as best as possible in the dark and under the circumstances. It briefly explained that a mutiny had occurred; that Captain Barnard had been set adrift; and that I could expect immediate help with provisions but must not cause any trouble. It ended with these words, "I have scrawled this with blood—your life depends upon lying low."
The slip of paper being tied upon the dog, he was now put down the hatchway, and Augustus made the best of his way back to the forecastle, where he found no reason to believe that any of the crew had been in his absence. To conceal the hole in the partition, he drove his knife in just above it, and hung up a pea-jacket which he found in the berth. His handcuffs were then replaced, and also the rope around his ankles.
The slip of paper tied to the dog, he was then lowered down the hatchway, and Augustus made his way back to the forecastle, where he saw no sign that any of the crew had been there during his absence. To cover the hole in the partition, he drove his knife in just above it and hung up a pea jacket he found in the bunk. His handcuffs were then put back on, along with the rope around his ankles.
These arrangements were scarcely completed when Dirk Peters came below, very drunk, but in excellent humour, and bringing with him my friend's allowance of provision for the day. This consisted of a dozen large Irish potatoes roasted, and a pitcher of water. He sat for some time on a chest by the berth, and talked freely about the mate, and the general concerns of the brig. His demeanour was exceedingly capricious and even grotesque. At one time Augustus was much alarmed by his odd conduct. At last, however, he went on deck, muttering a promise to bring his prisoner a good dinner on the morrow. During the day two of the crew (harpooners) came down, accompanied by the cook, all three in nearly the last stage of intoxication. Like Peters, they made no scruple of talking unreservedly about their plans. It appeared that they were much divided among themselves as to their ultimate course, agreeing in no point except the attack on the ship from the Cape Verd Islands, with which they were in hourly expectation of meeting. As far as could be ascertained, the mutiny had not been brought about altogether for the sake of booty; a private pique of the chief mate's against Captain Barnard having been the main instigation. There now seemed to be two principal factions among the crew—one headed by the mate, the other by the cook. The former party were for seizing the first suitable vessel which should present itself, and equipping it at some of the West India Islands for a piratical cruise. The latter division, however, which was the stronger, and included Dirk Peters among its partisans, were bent upon pursuing the course originally laid out for the brig into the South Pacific; there either to take whale, or act otherwise, as circumstances should suggest. The representations of Peters, who had frequently visited these regions, had great weight, apparently, with the mutineers, wavering as they were between half-engendered notions of profit and pleasure. He dwelt on the world of novelty and amusement to be found among the innumerable islands of the Pacific, on the perfect security and freedom from all restraint to be enjoyed, but, more particularly, on the deliciousness of the climate, on the abundant means of good living, and on the voluptuous beauty of the women. As yet, nothing had been absolutely determined upon; but the pictures of the hybrid line-manager were taking strong hold upon the ardent imaginations of the seamen, and there was every probability that his intentions would be finally carried into effect.
These arrangements were barely finished when Dirk Peters came below, very drunk but in great spirits, bringing with him my friend's food for the day. This included a dozen large roasted Irish potatoes and a pitcher of water. He sat for a while on a chest by the berth, chatting openly about the mate and the general situation of the brig. His behavior was extremely unpredictable and even comical. At one point, Augustus was quite worried about his strange actions. Eventually, though, he went back on deck, mumbling a promise to bring his prisoner a nice dinner tomorrow. During the day, two crew members (harpooners) came down with the cook, all three almost completely intoxicated. Like Peters, they had no hesitation in openly discussing their plans. It turned out they were quite divided about their ultimate course, agreeing only on attacking the ship from the Cape Verde Islands, which they expected to encounter at any moment. As far as could be gathered, the mutiny wasn't entirely for the sake of loot; it was primarily driven by the chief mate's personal grudge against Captain Barnard. It seemed there were now two main factions among the crew—one led by the mate and the other by the cook. The first group wanted to seize any suitable ship that came their way and outfit it in the West Indies for a pirate venture. However, the latter group, which was the stronger faction and included Dirk Peters as a supporter, aimed to follow the original route of the brig into the South Pacific; there, they would either hunt whales or act according to circumstances. The views of Peters, who had frequently visited these areas, carried significant weight with the mutineers, who were wavering between half-formed ideas about profit and pleasure. He spoke about the new experiences and excitement to be found among the countless islands of the Pacific, the complete safety and freedom from restrictions available, but especially about the wonderful climate, ample means of good living, and the stunning beauty of the women. As of now, nothing had been firmly decided, but the images painted by the unpredictable leader were capturing the eager imaginations of the sailors, and it seemed very likely that his plans would ultimately be realized.
The three men went away in about an hour, and no one else entered the forecastle all day. Augustus lay quiet until nearly night. He then freed himself from the rope and irons, and prepared for his attempt. A bottle was found in one of the berths, and this he filled with water from the pitcher left by Peters, storing his pockets at the same time with cold potatoes. To his great joy he also came across a lantern, with a small piece of tallow candle in it. This he could light at any moment, as he had in his possession a box of phosphorus matches. When it was quite dark, he got through the hole in the bulkhead, having taken the precaution to arrange the bedclothes in the berth so as to convey the idea of a person covered up. When through, he hung up the pea-jacket on his knife, as before, to conceal the aperture—this manoeuvre being easily effected, as he did not readjust the piece of plank taken out until afterward. He was now on the main orlop deck, and proceeded to make his way, as before, between the upper deck and the oil-casks to the main hatchway. Having reached this, he lit the piece of candle, and descended, groping with extreme difficulty among the compact stowage of the hold. In a few moments he became alarmed at the insufferable stench and the closeness of the atmosphere. He could not think it possible that I had survived my confinement for so long a period breathing so oppressive an air. He called my name repeatedly, but I made him no reply, and his apprehensions seemed thus to be confirmed. The brig was rolling violently, and there was so much noise in consequence, that it was useless to listen for any weak sound, such as those of my breathing or snoring. He threw open the lantern, and held it as high as possible, whenever an opportunity occurred, in order that, by observing the light, I might, if alive, be aware that succour was approaching. Still nothing was heard from me, and the supposition of my death began to assume the character of certainty. He determined, nevertheless, to force a passage, if possible, to the box, and at least ascertain beyond a doubt the truth of his surmises. He pushed on for some time in a most pitiable state of anxiety, until, at length, he found the pathway utterly blocked up, and that there was no possibility of making any farther way by the course in which he had set out. Overcome now by his feelings, he threw himself among the lumber in despair, and wept like a child. It was at this period that he heard the crash occasioned by the bottle which I had thrown down. Fortunate, indeed, was it that the incident occurred—for, upon this incident, trivial as it appears, the thread of my destiny depended. Many years elapsed, however, before I was aware of this fact. A natural shame and regret for his weakness and indecision prevented Augustus from confiding to me at once what a more intimate and unreserved communion afterward induced him to reveal. Upon finding his further progress in the hold impeded by obstacles which he could not overcome, he had resolved to abandon his attempt at reaching me, and return at once to the forecastle. Before condemning him entirely on this head, the harassing circumstances which embarrassed him should be taken into consideration. The night was fast wearing away, and his absence from the forecastle might be discovered; and, indeed, would necessarily be so, if he should fail to get back to the berth by daybreak. His candle was expiring in the socket, and there would be the greatest difficulty in retracing his way to the hatchway in the dark. It must be allowed, too, that he had every good reason to believe me dead; in which event no benefit could result to me from his reaching the box, and a world of danger would be encountered to no purpose by himself. He had repeatedly called, and I had made him no answer. I had been now eleven days and nights with no more water than that contained in the jug which he had left with me, a supply which it was not at all probable I had hoarded in the beginning of my confinement, as I had had every cause to expect a speedy release. The atmosphere of the hold, too, must have appeared to him, coming from the comparatively open air of the steerage, of a nature absolutely poisonous, and by far more intolerable than it had seemed to me upon my first taking up my quarters in the box—the hatchways at that time having been constantly open for many months previous. Add to these considerations that of the scene of bloodshed and terror so lately witnessed by my friend; his confinement, privations, and narrow escapes from death; together with the frail and equivocal tenure by which he still existed—circumstances all so well calculated to prostrate every energy of mind—and the reader will be easily brought, as I have been, to regard his apparent falling off in friendship and in faith with sentiments rather of sorrow than of anger.
The three men left after about an hour, and no one else came into the forecastle all day. Augustus stayed still until it was nearly night. He then untied himself from the rope and shackles and got ready for his escape. He found a bottle in one of the bunks and filled it with water from the pitcher that Peters had left behind, while also stuffing his pockets with cold potatoes. To his great relief, he also discovered a lantern with a small piece of tallow candle inside it. He could light this any time, as he had a box of phosphorus matches. Once it was completely dark, he squeezed through the hole in the bulkhead, making sure to arrange the bedclothes in the bunk to make it look like a person was still under them. After getting through, he hung his pea-jacket over the opening to hide it, easily doing this since he didn't put the plank he removed back until later. Now he was on the main orlop deck and made his way, as before, between the upper deck and the oil barrels to the main hatchway. When he reached it, he lit the candle and descended, struggling to move through the tightly packed cargo in the hold. After a few moments, he became alarmed at the unbearable stench and the oppressive air. He couldn't believe I could have survived being trapped for so long in such terrible conditions. He called my name several times, but I didn’t respond, confirming his fears. The brig was rolling heavily, and the noise made it impossible to hear any faint sounds like my breathing or snoring. He opened the lantern and held it as high as he could whenever he had the chance, so I might see the light and know help was coming if I was alive. But still, I didn’t make a sound, and he started to think I was dead for sure. Despite that, he decided he would try to reach the box to find out the truth for himself. He moved forward for a while, feeling anxious until he finally realized the path was entirely blocked, and he couldn't go any further in the direction he had taken. Overwhelmed by his emotions, he collapsed onto the heap of junk in despair and cried like a child. It was then he heard the crash caused by the bottle I had thrown down. It was very fortunate that this happened—though it seemed trivial, my fate depended on it. Many years passed before I learned this fact. A natural shame and regret about his weakness and hesitation kept Augustus from telling me right away what later he felt comfortable revealing. After realizing he couldn’t proceed in the hold, he decided to give up on reaching me and return to the forecastle. Before judging him too harshly, we should consider the stressful circumstances he faced. The night was almost over, and if he were gone too long from the forecastle, someone would surely notice; it would be especially true if he couldn’t get back to the bunk by dawn. His candle was burning down, and it would be very difficult to find his way back to the hatchway in the dark. It’s important to remember that he had every reason to believe I was dead; in that case, him reaching the box wouldn’t help me at all, and he would just be putting himself in danger for no reason. He had called several times, and I hadn’t answered. I had now been in there for eleven days and nights with no more water than what was in the jug he left for me, a supply I probably wouldn't have saved since I had expected to be freed quickly. The air in the hold must have seemed absolutely toxic to him compared to the relatively fresh air of the steerage, and it certainly felt worse than it had when I first took up residence in the box—with the hatchways having been open for several months before. Also consider the scene of violence and fear he had just witnessed; his confinement, suffering, and close calls with death; along with the fragile and uncertain way he still survived—all circumstances that would drain anyone's mental strength. Given all this, it's easy to see how his apparent withdrawal in friendship and faith could be interpreted with more sadness than anger.
The crash of the bottle was distinctly heard, yet Augustus was not sure that it proceeded from the hold. The doubt, however, was sufficient inducement to persevere. He clambered up nearly to the orlop deck by means of the stowage, and then watching for a lull in the pitchings of the vessel, he called out to me in as loud a tone as he could command—regardless, for the moment, of the danger of being overheard by the crew. It will be remembered that on this occasion the voice reached me, but I was so entirely overcome by violent agitation as to be incapable of reply. Confident, now, that his worst apprehensions were well founded, he descended, with a view of getting back to the forecastle without loss of time. In his haste some small boxes were thrown down, the noise occasioned by which I heard, as will be recollected. He had made considerable progress on his return when the fall of the knife again caused him to hesitate. He retraced his steps immediately, and, clambering up the stowage a second time, called out my name, loudly as before, having watched for a lull. This time I found voice to answer. Overjoyed at discovering me to be still alive, he now resolved to brave every difficulty and danger in reaching me. Having extricated himself as quickly as possible from the labyrinth of lumber by which he was hemmed in, he at length struck into an opening which promised better, and finally, after a series of struggles, arrived at the box in a state of utter exhaustion.
The sound of the bottle breaking was clearly audible, but Augustus wasn't sure it came from the hold. However, his uncertainty was enough motivation to keep going. He climbed up almost to the orlop deck using the stowage and then, waiting for a moment when the ship stopped rocking, he called out to me as loudly as he could—ignoring, for the moment, the risk of being heard by the crew. It’s important to note that on this occasion, his voice reached me, but I was so overwhelmed with intense agitation that I couldn’t respond. Now fully convinced that his worst fears were true, he went back down to get to the forecastle as quickly as possible. In his rush, he knocked over some small boxes, and I heard the noise, as you may remember. He had made significant progress on his way back when the knife falling made him hesitate again. He quickly retraced his steps, climbed up the stowage a second time, and called out my name loudly once more, waiting for the right moment. This time I managed to reply. Overjoyed to find out I was still alive, he decided to face any challenge or danger to reach me. He quickly freed himself from the mess of debris surrounding him and finally found a path that looked more promising. After a series of struggles, he reached the box completely exhausted.
CHAPTER VI.
The leading particulars of this narration were all that Augustus communicated to me while we remained near the box. It was not until afterward that he entered fully into all the details. He was apprehensive of being missed, and I was wild with impatience to leave my detested place of confinement. We resolved to make our way at once to the hole in the bulkhead, near which I was to remain for the present, while he went through to reconnoitre. To leave Tiger in the box was what neither of us could endure to think of; yet, how to act otherwise was the question. He now seemed to be perfectly quiet, and we could not even distinguish the sound of his breathing upon applying our ears closely to the box. I was convinced that he was dead, and determined to open the door. We found him lying at full length, apparently in a deep stupor, yet still alive. No time was to be lost, yet I could not bring myself to abandon an animal who had now been twice instrumental in saving my life, without some attempt at preserving him. We therefore dragged him along with us as well as we could, although with the greatest difficulty and fatigue; Augustus, during part of the time, being forced to clamber over the impediments in our way with the huge dog in his arms—a feat to which the feebleness of my frame rendered me totally inadequate. At length we succeeded in reaching the hole, when Augustus got through, and Tiger was pushed in afterward. All was found to be safe, and we did not fail to return sincere thanks to God for our deliverance from the imminent danger we had escaped. For the present it was agreed that I should remain near the opening, through which my companion could readily supply me with a part of his daily provision, and where I could have the advantages of breathing an atmosphere comparatively pure.
The main points of this story were everything Augustus shared with me while we were still by the box. It wasn’t until later that he gave me all the details. He was worried about being missed, and I was desperate to get out of my hated confinement. We decided to head straight to the hole in the bulkhead, where I was to stay for now while he went ahead to scout. Leaving Tiger in the box was something neither of us could bear to think about, but the question was what else to do. He seemed completely calm now, and we couldn’t even hear him breathing when we pressed our ears against the box. I felt sure he was dead and resolved to open the door. We found him lying flat, seemingly in a deep stupor but still alive. We had to hurry, but I couldn’t just leave an animal that had saved my life twice without trying to help him. So, we dragged him along as best as we could, but it was extremely hard and tiring; at times, Augustus had to climb over obstacles with the big dog in his arms—a task I was completely unable to manage due to my weakness. Eventually, we made it to the hole, and Augustus went through first, followed by Tiger. Everything was safe on the other side, and we didn’t forget to thank God for saving us from the danger we had just escaped. For now, we agreed that I would stay near the opening, where my companion could easily bring me part of his daily food and I could breathe cleaner air.
In explanation of some portions of this narrative wherein I have spoken of the stowage of the brig, and which may appear ambiguous to some of my readers who may have seen a proper or regular stowage, I must here state that the manner in which this most important duty had been performed on board the Grampus was a most shameful piece of neglect on the part of Captain Barnard, who was by no means as careful or as experienced a seaman as the hazardous nature of the service on which he was employed would seem necessarily to demand. A proper stowage cannot be accomplished in a careless manner, and many most disastrous accidents, even within the limits of my own experience, have arisen from neglect or ignorance in this particular. Coasting vessels, in the frequent hurry and bustle attendant upon taking in or discharging cargo, are the most liable to mishap from the want of a proper attention to stowage. The great point is to allow no possibility of the cargo or ballast's shifting position even in the most violent rollings of the vessel. With this end, great attention must be paid, not only to the bulk taken in, but to the nature of the bulk, and whether there be a full or only a partial cargo. In most kinds of freight the stowage is accomplished by means of a screw. Thus, in a load of tobacco or flour, the whole is screwed so tightly into the hold of the vessel that the barrels or hogsheads upon discharging are found to be completely flattened, and take some time to regain their original shape. This screwing, however, is resorted to principally with a view of obtaining more room in the hold; for in a full load of any such commodities as flour or tobacco, there can be no danger of any shifting whatever, at least none from which inconvenience can result. There have been instances, indeed, where this method of screwing has resulted in the most lamentable consequences, arising from a cause altogether distinct from the danger attendant upon a shifting of cargo. A load of cotton, for example, tightly screwed while in certain conditions, has been known, through the expansion of its bulk, to rend a vessel asunder at sea. There can be no doubt, either, that the same result would ensue in the case of tobacco, while undergoing its usual course of fermentation, were it not for the interstices consequent upon the rotundity of the hogsheads.
In explaining some parts of this story where I've talked about how the brig was loaded, which might seem unclear to some readers who have seen a proper or regular stowing process, I want to clarify that the way this crucial task was handled on the Grampus was a serious neglect by Captain Barnard. He wasn’t as careful or experienced a sailor as the risky nature of his job would require. Proper stowing can't be done carelessly, and many disastrous accidents, even based on my own experiences, have occurred due to neglect or ignorance in this area. Coasting vessels, often in the chaos associated with loading or unloading cargo, are especially prone to accidents from inadequate attention to stowage. The key is to ensure there's no chance of the cargo or ballast shifting, even during the most severe rolling of the ship. To achieve this, one must pay close attention not just to the amount of cargo but also to its nature and whether it’s a full or partial load. In most types of freight, stowage is done using a screw. For example, in a load of tobacco or flour, everything is packed so tightly in the hold that the barrels or hogsheads, upon unloading, are totally flattened and take some time to return to their original shape. However, this screwing is mainly done to maximize space in the hold, because with a full load of goods like flour or tobacco, there’s no risk of shifting at all, at least none that would cause any trouble. Indeed, there have been cases where this method of packing has led to tragic outcomes due to reasons completely separate from the danger of shifting cargo. A load of cotton, for instance, tightly packed in certain conditions has been known to tear a ship apart at sea due to its expansion. There's no doubt that a similar outcome could happen with tobacco while it ferments, if not for the gaps created by the round shape of the hogsheads.
It is when a partial cargo is received that danger is chiefly to be apprehended from shifting, and that precautions should be always taken to guard against such misfortune. Only those who have encountered a violent gale of wind, or, rather, who have experienced the rolling of a vessel in a sudden calm after the gale, can form an idea of the tremendous force of the plunges, and of the consequent terrible impetus given to all loose articles in the vessel. It is then that the necessity of a cautious stowage, when there is a partial cargo, becomes obvious. When lying to (especially with a small head sail), a vessel which is not properly modelled in the bows is frequently thrown upon her beam-ends; this occurring even every fifteen or twenty minutes upon an average, yet without any serious consequences resulting, provided there be a proper stowage. If this, however, has not been strictly attended to, in the first of these heavy lurches the whole of the cargo tumbles over to the side of the vessel which lies upon the water, and, being thus prevented from regaining her equilibrium, as she would otherwise necessarily do, she is certain to fill in a few seconds and go down. It is not too much to say that at least one half of the instances in which vessels have foundered in heavy gales at sea may be attributed to a shifting of cargo or of ballast.
It's when a partial cargo is delivered that the main danger comes from shifting, and precautions should always be taken to prevent such misfortune. Only those who have faced a strong windstorm, or more specifically, those who have felt a ship rolling in a sudden calm after the storm, can truly grasp the immense force of the movements and the resulting terrible impact on all loose items in the vessel. This highlights the importance of careful stowage when dealing with a partial cargo. When a ship is waiting (especially with a small headsail), a vessel that's not well-designed at the front can often lean over on its side; this can happen every fifteen to twenty minutes on average without causing serious problems, as long as the stowage is done correctly. However, if proper stowage has not been strictly followed, in the first heavy lurch, the entire cargo can shift to the side that is submerged in the water, preventing the vessel from regaining its balance. As a result, it will likely fill with water in a matter of seconds and sink. It’s fair to say that at least half of the cases where ships have sunk in severe storms at sea can be traced back to shifting cargo or ballast.
When a partial cargo of any kind is taken on board, the whole, after being first stowed as compactly as may be, should be covered with a layer of stout shifting-boards, extending completely across the vessel. Upon these boards strong temporary stanchions should be erected, reaching to the timbers above, and thus securing everything in its place. In cargoes consisting of grain, or any similar matter, additional precautions are requisite. A hold filled entirely with grain upon leaving port will be found not more than three fourths full upon reaching its destination—this, too, although the freight, when measured bushel by bushel by the consignee, will overrun by a vast deal (on account of the swelling of the grain) the quantity consigned. This result is occasioned by settling during the voyage, and is the more perceptible in proportion to the roughness of the weather experienced. If grain loosely thrown in a vessel, then, is ever so well secured by shifting-boards and stanchions, it will be liable to shift in a long passage so greatly as to bring about the most distressing calamities. To prevent these, every method should be employed before leaving port to settle the cargo as much as possible; and for this there are many contrivances, among which may be mentioned the driving of wedges into the grain. Even after all this is done, and unusual pains taken to secure the shifting-boards, no seaman who knows what he is about will feel altogether secure in a gale of any violence with a cargo of grain on board, and, least of all, with a partial cargo. Yet there are hundreds of our coasting vessels, and, it is likely, many more from the ports of Europe, which sail daily with partial cargoes, even of the most dangerous species, and without any precautions whatever. The wonder is that no more accidents occur than do actually happen. A lamentable instance of this heedlessness occurred to my knowledge in the case of Captain Joel Rice of the schooner Firefly, which sailed from Richmond, Virginia, to Madeira, with a cargo of corn, in the year 1825. The captain had gone many voyages without serious accident, although he was in the habit of paying no attention whatever to his stowage, more than to secure it in the ordinary manner. He had never before sailed with a cargo of grain, and on this occasion had the corn thrown on board loosely, when it did not much more than half fill the vessel. For the first portion of the voyage he met with nothing more than light breezes; but when within a day's sail of Madeira there came on a strong gale from the N. N. E. which forced him to lie to. He brought the schooner to the wind under a double-reefed foresail alone, when she rode as well as any vessel could be expected to do, and shipped not a drop of water. Towards night the gale somewhat abated, and she rolled with more unsteadiness than before, but still did very well, until a heavy lurch threw her upon her beam-ends to starboard. The corn was then heard to shift bodily, the force of the movement bursting open the main hatchway. The vessel went down like a shot. This happened within hail of a small sloop from Madeira, which picked up one of the crew (the only person saved), and which rode out the gale in perfect security, as indeed a jollyboat might have done under proper management.
When a partial load of any kind is taken on board, the entire cargo should be packed as compactly as possible and covered with a layer of sturdy shifting boards that extend completely across the vessel. Strong temporary supports should be set up on these boards, reaching to the beams above, to secure everything in place. For cargoes made up of grain or similar materials, extra precautions are necessary. A hold filled entirely with grain when leaving port will be found not more than three quarters full upon arriving at its destination—even though the amount measured by the consignee will greatly exceed the quantity shipped, due to the grain swelling. This occurs because of settling during the voyage, and it becomes more pronounced with rougher weather. Even if the grain is secured well with shifting boards and supports, it can still shift significantly over a long passage, leading to serious problems. To prevent these issues, every method should be used before leaving port to settle the cargo as much as possible; one option is driving wedges into the grain. Even after all these precautions and efforts to secure the shifting boards, no experienced sailor will feel completely secure in a strong gale with a cargo of grain on board, especially with a partial load. Yet there are hundreds of our coasting vessels, and likely even more from European ports, that sail daily with partial loads, often of the most dangerous kinds, without any precautions whatsoever. It’s surprising that more accidents don’t occur than actually do. A regrettable example of this recklessness was the case of Captain Joel Rice of the schooner Firefly, who sailed from Richmond, Virginia, to Madeira with a load of corn in 1825. The captain had made many voyages without serious incidents, despite rarely paying attention to how things were stowed, only securing them in the usual way. He had never before sailed with a cargo of grain and on this trip, the corn was tossed on board loosely, filling the vessel to just over half its capacity. During the first part of the journey, he experienced only light winds; however, within a day’s sail of Madeira, a strong gale from the N.N.E. forced him to anchor. He managed to bring the schooner into the wind under a double-reefed foresail alone, and it rode as well as any vessel could, taking on no water. Towards night, the gale eased somewhat, and the ship rolled more unsteadily than before but continued to handle well until a sudden lurch tossed it onto its side. The corn was then heard to shift dramatically, causing the main hatchway to burst open. The vessel sank like a stone. This happened within shouting distance of a small sloop from Madeira, which rescued one crew member (the only person saved) and rode out the storm in complete safety, as indeed a small boat could have under proper handling.
The stowage on board the Grampus was most clumsily done, if stowage that could be called which was little better than a promiscuous huddling together of oil-casks1 and ship furniture. I have already spoken of the condition of articles in the hold. On the orlop deck there was space enough for my body (as I have stated) between the oil-casks and the upper deck; a space was left open around the main hatchway; and several other large spaces were left in the stowage. Near the hole cut through the bulkhead by Augustus there was room enough for an entire cask, and in this space I found myself comfortably situated for the present.
The storage on the Grampus was done really poorly, resembling a random jumble of oil barrels and ship furniture. I've already mentioned the state of the items in the hold. On the orlop deck, there was enough space for my body (as I said) between the oil barrels and the upper deck; an area was left clear around the main hatch; and several other large gaps were left in the storage. Near the hole that Augustus cut through the bulkhead, there was enough room for an entire barrel, and I found myself comfortably settled in that space for now.
1 Whaling vessels are usually fitted with iron oil-tanks—why the Grampus was not I have never been able to ascertain.
1 Whaling ships are typically equipped with iron oil tanks—I've never been able to figure out why the Grampus wasn't.
By the time my friend had got safely into the berth, and readjusted his handcuffs and the rope, it was broad daylight. We had made a narrow escape indeed; for scarcely had he arranged all matters, when the mate came below, with Dirk Peters and the cook. They talked for some time about the vessel from the Cape Verds, and seemed to be excessively anxious for her appearance. At length the cook came to the berth in which Augustus was lying, and seated himself in it near the head. I could see and hear everything from my hiding-place, for the piece cut out had not been put back, and I was in momentary expectation that the negro would fall against the pea-jacket, which was hung up to conceal the aperture, in which case all would have been discovered, and our lives would, no doubt, have been instantly sacrificed. Our good fortune prevailed, however; and although he frequently touched it as the vessel rolled, he never pressed against it sufficiently to bring about a discovery. The bottom of the jacket had been carefully fastened to the bulkhead, so that the hole might not be seen by its swinging to one side. All this time Tiger was lying in the foot of the berth, and appeared to have recovered in some measure his faculties, for I could see him occasionally open his eyes and draw a long breath.
By the time my friend settled into the bunk and adjusted his handcuffs and the rope, it was broad daylight. We had narrowly escaped; just as he managed to get everything in order, the mate came down with Dirk Peters and the cook. They talked for a while about the ship from the Cape Verds and seemed really anxious for her arrival. Eventually, the cook came to the bunk where Augustus was lying and sat down near the head. From my hiding spot, I could see and hear everything since the piece that had been cut out wasn't put back, and I was constantly worried that the cook would bump into the pea jacket hung up to cover the opening. If that happened, it would all be discovered, and our lives would surely be in danger. Luckily, though, even though he brushed against it as the ship rolled, he never leaned against it hard enough to reveal our hiding place. The bottom of the jacket was carefully secured to the bulkhead so that the hole wouldn’t be visible when it swung to the side. During all this, Tiger was lying at the foot of the bunk and seemed to have somewhat regained his senses, as I could see him occasionally open his eyes and take a deep breath.
After a few minutes the mate and cook went above, leaving Dirk Peters behind, who, as soon as they were gone, came and sat himself down in the place just occupied by the mate. He began to talk very sociably with Augustus, and we could now see that the greater part of his apparent intoxication, while the two others were with him, was a feint. He answered all my companion's questions with perfect freedom; told him that he had no doubt of his father's having been picked up, as there were no less than five sail in sight just before sundown on the day he was cut adrift; and used other language of a consolatory nature, which occasioned me no less surprise than pleasure. Indeed, I began to entertain hopes, that through the instrumentality of Peters we might be finally enabled to regain possession of the brig, and this idea I mentioned to Augustus as soon as I found an opportunity. He thought the matter possible, but urged the necessity of the greatest caution in making the attempt, as the conduct of the hybrid appeared to be instigated by the most arbitrary caprice alone; and, indeed, it was difficult to say if he was at any moment of sound mind. Peters went upon deck in about an hour, and did not return again until noon, when he brought Augustus a plentiful supply of junk beef and pudding. Of this, when we were left alone, I partook heartily, without returning through the hole. No one else came down into the forecastle during the day, and at night I got into Augustus's berth, where I slept soundly and sweetly until nearly daybreak, when he awakened me upon hearing a stir upon deck, and I regained my hiding-place as quickly as possible. When the day was fully broke, we found that Tiger had recovered his strength almost entirely, and gave no indications of hydrophobia, drinking a little water that was offered him with great apparent eagerness. During the day he regained all his former vigour and appetite. His strange conduct had been brought on, no doubt, by the deleterious quality of the air of the hold, and had no connexion with canine madness. I could not sufficiently rejoice that I had persisted in bringing him with me from the box. This day was the thirtieth of June, and the thirteenth since the Grampus made sail from Nantucket.
After a few minutes, the first mate and the cook went above deck, leaving Dirk Peters behind. As soon as they were gone, he sat down in the spot just vacated by the mate. He started chatting comfortably with Augustus, and we could now tell that most of his earlier drunkenness, when the others were around, was just an act. He answered all my companion's questions freely. He mentioned he was sure that his father had been rescued since there were five ships in sight right before sunset the day he was cast adrift. He offered other reassuring remarks that surprised and pleased me. I actually started to think that, thanks to Peters, we might be able to get the brig back, which I mentioned to Augustus when I had the chance. He believed it was possible but stressed the need for extreme caution because Peters' behavior seemed completely unpredictable. It was hard to tell if he was ever in his right mind. Peters went on deck after about an hour and didn’t come back until noon, bringing Augustus a good amount of junk beef and pudding. Once we were alone, I digged into the food heartily, without going back through the hole. No one else came into the forecastle during the day, and at night I climbed into Augustus's bunk, sleeping soundly and peacefully until nearly dawn when he woke me up after hearing a noise on deck. I quickly returned to my hiding spot. By full morning, we discovered that Tiger had regained almost all his strength, showing no signs of hydrophobia and eagerly drinking the water we offered him. Throughout the day, he got back all his energy and appetite. His strange behavior was likely caused by the poor air quality in the hold and had nothing to do with rabies. I felt incredibly grateful that I had insisted on bringing him with me from the box. This day was the thirtieth of June and the thirteenth since the Grampus set sail from Nantucket.
On the second of July the mate came below, drunk as usual, and in an excessively good-humour. He came to Augustus's berth, and, giving him a slap on the back, asked him if he thought he could behave himself if he let him loose, and whether he would promise not to be going into the cabin again. To this, of course, my friend answered in the affirmative, when the ruffian set him at liberty, after making him drink from a flask of rum which he drew from his coat-pocket. Both now went on deck, and I did not see Augustus for about three hours. He then came below with the good news that he had obtained permission to go about the brig as he pleased anywhere forward of the mainmast, and that he had been ordered to sleep, as usual, in the forecastle. He brought me, too, a good dinner, and a plentiful supply of water. The brig was still cruising for the vessel from the Cape Verds, and a sail was now in sight which was thought to be the one in question. As the events of the ensuing eight days were of little importance, and had no direct bearing upon the main incidents of my narrative, I will here throw them into the form of a journal, as I do not wish to omit them altogether.
On July 2nd, the first mate came below, as drunk as usual, and in a really good mood. He walked over to Augustus's bunk, gave him a hearty slap on the back, and asked if he thought he could behave himself if he let him go, and whether he’d promise not to go into the cabin again. Of course, my friend said yes, so the guy let him go after making him take a swig from a flask of rum he pulled out of his coat pocket. They both went back on deck, and I didn’t see Augustus for about three hours. He then came back below with the great news that he had gotten permission to roam around the brig anywhere in front of the mainmast and that he had been told to sleep, as usual, in the forecastle. He also brought me a nice dinner and plenty of water. The brig was still looking for the ship from the Cape Verds, and there was a sail in sight that they thought might be the one. Since the events of the next eight days aren’t that significant and don’t directly relate to the main parts of my story, I’ll summarize them in a journal format, since I don’t want to skip over them entirely.
July 3. Augustus furnished me with three blankets, with which I contrived a comfortable bed in my hiding-place. No one came below, except my companion, during the day. Tiger took his station in the berth just by the aperture, and slept heavily, as if not yet entirely recovered from the effects of his sickness. Towards night a flaw of wind struck the brig before sail could be taken in, and very nearly capsized her. The puff died away immediately, however, and no damage was done beyond the splitting of the foretopsail. Dirk Peters treated Augustus all this day with great kindness, and entered into a long conversation with him respecting the Pacific Ocean, and the islands he had visited in that region. He asked him whether he would not like to go with the mutineers on a kind of exploring and pleasure voyage in those quarters, and said that the men were gradually coming over to the mate's views. To this Augustus thought it best to reply that he would be glad to go on such an adventure, since nothing better could be done, and that anything was preferable to a piratical life.
July 3. Augustus gave me three blankets, which I used to make a comfortable bed in my hiding spot. During the day, no one came down except my companion. Tiger took his place in the bunk right by the opening and slept heavily, as if he hadn't fully recovered from his illness. As night approached, a gust of wind hit the brig before they could take in the sails, almost tipping her over. Fortunately, the puff died down right away, and no damage was done except for the splitting of the foretopsail. Dirk Peters treated Augustus very kindly all day and had a long conversation with him about the Pacific Ocean and the islands he had visited there. He asked Augustus if he would be interested in joining the mutineers on a sort of exploring and pleasure voyage in that area, mentioning that the men were slowly coming around to the mate's ideas. Augustus thought it best to respond that he would be happy to go on such an adventure since there was nothing better to do, and anything was preferable to a life of piracy.
July 4th. The vessel in sight proved to be a small brig from Liverpool, and was allowed to pass unmolested. Augustus spent most of his time on deck, with a view of obtaining all the information in his power respecting the intentions of the mutineers. They had frequent and violent quarrels among themselves, in one of which a harpooner, Jim Bonner, was thrown overboard. The party of the mate was gaining ground. Jim Bonner belonged to the cook's gang, of which Peters was a partisan.
July 4th. The ship in sight turned out to be a small brig from Liverpool, and it was allowed to pass without any issues. Augustus spent most of his time on deck, trying to gather as much information as possible about the mutineers' plans. They had frequent and intense arguments among themselves, during one of which a harpooner, Jim Bonner, was tossed overboard. The mate's side was gaining support. Jim Bonner was part of the cook's group, which Peters was a supporter of.
July 5th. About daybreak there came on a stiff breeze from the west, which at noon freshened into a gale, so that the brig could carry nothing more than her trysail and foresail. In taking in the foretopsail, Simms, one of the common hands, and belonging also to the cook's gang, fell overboard, being very much in liquor, and was drowned—no attempt being made to save him. The whole number of persons on board was now thirteen, to wit: Dirk Peters; Seymour, the black cook; —— Jones; —— Greely; Hartman Rogers; and William Allen, of the cook's party; the mate, whose name I never learned; Absalom Hicks; —— Wilson; John Hunt; and Richard Parker, of the mate's party—besides Augustus and myself.
July 5th. Around daybreak, a strong breeze came in from the west, which picked up by noon into a gale, forcing the brig to only use her trysail and foresail. While taking in the foretopsail, Simms, one of the crew and also part of the cook's team, fell overboard after having too much to drink and drowned—no one tried to rescue him. The total number of people on board was now thirteen, including: Dirk Peters; Seymour, the black cook; —— Jones; —— Greely; Hartman Rogers; and William Allen from the cook's group; the mate, whose name I never found out; Absalom Hicks; —— Wilson; John Hunt; and Richard Parker from the mate's group—plus Augustus and me.
July 6th. The gale lasted all this day, blowing in heavy squalls, accompanied with rain. The brig took in a good deal of water through her seams, and one of the pumps was kept continually going, Augustus being forced to take his turn. Just at twilight a large ship passed close by us, without having been discovered until within hail. This ship was supposed to be the one for which the mutineers were on the look-out. The mate hailed her, but the reply was drowned in the roaring of the gale. At eleven, a sea was shipped amid-ships, which tore away a great portion of the larboard bulwarks, and did some other slight damage. Towards morning the weather moderated, and at sunrise there was very little wind.
July 6th. The storm continued all day, with strong gusts and rain. The brig took on a lot of water through its seams, and we had to keep one of the pumps running constantly, with Augustus taking his turn. Just at twilight, a large ship passed by us, unnoticed until we could shout to it. Everyone thought this was the ship the mutineers were looking for. The mate called out to her, but the wind drowned out the response. At eleven, a wave hit the middle of the ship, tearing away a big section of the left-side railing and causing some other minor damage. By morning, the weather calmed down, and there was very little wind at sunrise.
July 7th. There was a heavy swell running all this day, during which the brig, being light, rolled excessively, and many articles broke loose in the hold, as I could hear distinctly from my hiding-place. I suffered a great deal from sea-sickness. Peters had a long conversation this day with Augustus, and told him that two of his gang, Greely and Allen, had gone over to the mate, and were resolved to turn pirates. He put several questions to Augustus which he did not then exactly understand. During a part of this evening the leak gained upon the vessel; and little could be done to remedy it, as it was occasioned by the brig's straining, and taking in the water through her seams. A sail was thrummed, and got under the bows, which aided us in some measure, so that we began to gain upon the leak.
July 7th. There was a strong swell all day, and since the brig was light, it rolled excessively. I could hear a lot of items breaking loose in the hold from my hiding spot. I felt really sick from the sea. Peters had a long chat with Augustus today and told him that two of his crew, Greely and Allen, had gone over to the mate and were set on becoming pirates. He asked Augustus several questions that he didn’t fully understand at the time. Later in the evening, the leak in the vessel got worse, and we couldn’t do much to fix it since it was happening because of the brig straining and taking in water through its seams. A sail was rigged and placed at the front, which helped us a bit, so we started to make progress against the leak.
July 8th. A light breeze sprung up at sunrise from the eastward, when the mate headed the brig to the southwest, with the intention of making some of the West India islands, in pursuance of his piratical designs. No opposition was made by Peters or the cook; at least none in the hearing of Augustus. All idea of taking the vessel from the Cape Verds was abandoned. The leak was now easily kept under by one pump going every three quarters of an hour. The sail was drawn from beneath the bows. Spoke two small schooners during the day.
July 8th. A light breeze picked up at sunrise from the east as the first mate steered the brig southwest, planning to reach some of the West Indian islands for his pirate schemes. Peters and the cook didn’t put up any resistance; at least, none that Augustus could hear. The idea of taking the vessel from the Cape Verds was dropped. The leak was now manageable, with one pump running every three quarters of an hour. The sail was pulled from beneath the bow. They spoke to two small schooners throughout the day.
July 9th. Fine weather. All hands employed in repairing bulwarks. Peters had again a long conversation with Augustus, and spoke more plainly than he had done heretofore. He said nothing should induce him to come into the mate's views, and even hinted his intention of taking the brig out of his hands. He asked my friend if he could depend upon his aid in such case, to which Augustus said, "Yes," without hesitation. Peters then said he would sound the others of his party upon the subject, and went away. During the remainder of the day Augustus had no opportunity of speaking with him privately.
July 9th. Nice weather. Everyone was busy fixing the bulwarks. Peters had another lengthy conversation with Augustus and spoke more openly than before. He insisted that nothing would convince him to agree with the mate's plans, and even suggested that he might take control of the brig from him. He asked my friend if he could count on his support in that case, to which Augustus replied, "Yes," without hesitation. Peters then mentioned that he would check with the others in his group about the matter and left. For the rest of the day, Augustus didn't have a chance to speak with him privately.
CHAPTER VII.
July 10. Spoke a brig from Rio, bound to Norfolk. Weather hazy, with a light baffling wind from the eastward. To-day Hartman Rogers died, having been attacked on the eighth with spasms after drinking a glass of grog. This man was of the cook's party, and one upon whom Peters placed his main reliance. He told Augustus that he believed the mate had poisoned him, and that he expected, if he did not be on the look-out, his own turn would come shortly. There were now only himself, Jones, and the cook belonging to his own gang—on the other side there were five. He had spoken to Jones about taking the command from the mate; but the project having been coolly received, he had been deterred from pressing the matter any further, or from saying anything to the cook. It was well, as it happened, that he was so prudent, for in the afternoon the cook expressed his determination of siding with the mate, and went over formally to that party; while Jones took an opportunity of quarrelling with Peters, and hinted that he would let the mate know of the plan in agitation. There was now, evidently, no time to be lost, and Peters expressed his determination of attempting to take the vessel at all hazards, provided Augustus would lend him his aid. My friend at once assured him of his willingness to enter into any plan for that purpose, and, thinking the opportunity a favourable one, made known the fact of my being on board. At this the hybrid was not more astonished than delighted, as he had no reliance whatever upon Jones, whom he already considered as belonging to the party of the mate. They went below immediately, when Augustus called to me by name, and Peters and myself were soon made acquainted. It was agreed that we should attempt to retake the vessel upon the first good opportunity, leaving Jones altogether out of our councils. In the event of success we were to run the brig into the first port that offered, and deliver her up. The desertion of his party had frustrated Peters's design of going into the Pacific—an adventure which could not be accomplished without a crew, and he depended upon either getting acquitted upon trial on the score of insanity (which he solemnly averred had actuated him in lending his aid to the mutiny), or upon obtaining a pardon, if found guilty, through the representations of Augustus and myself. Our deliberations were interrupted for the present by the cry of "All hands take in sail," and Peters and Augustus ran up on deck.
July 10. Saw a brig from Rio heading to Norfolk. The weather was hazy, with a light confusing wind from the east. Today, Hartman Rogers died after having a spasm attack on the eighth after drinking a glass of grog. He was part of the cook's group and someone Peters relied on heavily. He told Augustus that he thought the mate had poisoned him and warned that if he wasn’t careful, his turn would be next. Now, it was just him, Jones, and the cook left in his group—on the other side, there were five. He had discussed taking command from the mate with Jones, but since that idea was met with indifference, he decided not to push it further or say anything to the cook. It turned out to be wise to hold back because in the afternoon, the cook declared he would side with the mate and officially joined that group; meanwhile, Jones seized the chance to argue with Peters and hinted that he might inform the mate about their plan. It was clear that time was running out, and Peters resolved to take the vessel no matter what, as long as Augustus would help him. My friend immediately assured him he was willing to support any plan for that. Thinking it was a good opportunity, he mentioned that I was on board. This news surprised and delighted Peters since he had no trust in Jones, whom he already considered part of the mate's crew. They went below deck right away, and Augustus called me by name, quickly introducing me to Peters. We agreed to try and retake the vessel at the first good chance, keeping Jones completely out of our plans. If we succeeded, we would head the brig to the first port we found and turn her in. The defection of Peters’s crew had thwarted his plan to go into the Pacific—an adventure that couldn’t happen without a crew. He was counting on either being found not guilty by reason of insanity (which he firmly claimed was why he helped with the mutiny) or getting a pardon if found guilty, thanks to the influence of Augustus and me. Our discussion was interrupted by the shout of "All hands take in sail," and Peters and Augustus hurried up on deck.
As usual, the crew were nearly all drunk; and, before sail could be properly taken in, a violent squall laid the brig on her beam-ends. By keeping her away, however, she righted, having shipped a good deal of water. Scarcely was everything secure, when another squall took the vessel, and immediately afterward another—no damage being done. There was every appearance of a gale of wind, which, indeed, shortly came on, with great fury, from the northward and westward. All was made as snug as possible, and we laid to, as usual, under a close-reefed foresail. As night drew on, the wind increased in violence, with a remarkably heavy sea. Peters now came into the forecastle with Augustus, and we resumed our deliberations.
As usual, the crew were almost all drunk, and before we could properly take in the sails, a strong squall tipped the brig over on its side. However, by steering away from it, we managed to right her, though we took on quite a bit of water. Just as we secured everything, another squall hit the vessel, and shortly after, a third—no damage was done. It looked like a gale was brewing, which soon arrived, raging from the north and west. We made everything as secure as we could and, as usual, held steady under a close-reefed foresail. As night fell, the wind picked up strength, along with a very heavy sea. Peters came into the forecastle with Augustus, and we got back to our discussions.
We agreed that no opportunity could be more favourable than the present for carrying our design into effect, as an attempt at such a moment would never be anticipated. As the brig was snugly laid to, there would be no necessity of manoeuvring her until good weather, when, if we succeeded in our attempt, we might liberate one, or perhaps two of the men, to aid us in taking her into port. The main difficulty was the great disproportion in our forces. There were only three of us, and in the cabin there were nine. All the arms on board, too, were in their possession, with the exception of a pair of small pistols which Peters had concealed about his person, and the large seaman's knife which he always wore in the waistband of his pantaloons. From certain indications, too, such, for example, as there being no such thing as an axe or a handspike lying in their customary places, we began to fear that the mate had his suspicions, at least in regard to Peters, and that he would let slip no opportunity of getting rid of him. It was clear, indeed, that what we should determine to do could not be done too soon. Still the odds were too much against us to allow of our proceeding without the greatest caution.
We agreed that there couldn’t be a better time than now to put our plan into action since no one would expect us to try something like this at such a moment. With the brig securely anchored, we wouldn’t need to maneuver her until the weather improved. If we succeeded in our plan, we might be able to free one or even two of the men to help us get her into port. The main challenge was that our forces were greatly outnumbered. There were only three of us, while there were nine in the cabin. All the weapons on board were with them, except for a couple of small pistols that Peters had hidden on him, and the large seaman's knife he always wore in his waistband. Based on certain clues, like the absence of an axe or a handspike in their usual spots, we started to worry that the mate was suspicious, especially about Peters, and might seize any chance to get rid of him. It was clear that whatever we decided to do needed to be done quickly. However, the odds were stacked against us, so we had to proceed with extreme caution.
Peters proposed that he should go up on deck, and enter into conversation with the watch (Allen), when he would be able to throw him into the sea without trouble, and without making any disturbance, by seizing a good opportunity; that Augustus and myself should then come up, and endeavour to provide ourselves with some kind of weapons from the deck; and that we should then make a rush together, and secure the companion-way before any opposition could be offered. I objected to this, because I could not believe that the mate (who was a cunning fellow in all matters which did not affect his superstitious prejudices) would suffer himself to be so easily entrapped. The very fact of there being a watch on deck at all was sufficient proof that he was upon the alert—it not being usual, except in vessels where discipline is most rigidly enforced, to station a watch on deck when a vessel is lying to in a gale of wind. As I address myself principally, if not altogether, to persons who have never been to sea, it may be as well to state the exact condition of a vessel under such circumstances. Lying to, or, in sea-parlance "laying to," is a measure resorted to for various purposes, and effected in various manners. In moderate weather, it is frequently done with a view of merely bringing the vessel to a stand-still, to wait for another vessel, or any similar object. If the vessel which lies to is under full sail, the manoeuvre is usually accomplished by throwing round some portion of her sails so as to let the wind take them aback, when she becomes stationary. But we are now speaking of lying to in a gale of wind. This is done when the wind is ahead, and too violent to admit of carrying sail without danger of capsizing; and sometimes even when the wind is fair, but the sea too heavy for the vessel to be put before it. If a vessel be suffered to scud before the wind in a very heavy sea, much damage is usually done her by the shipping of water over her stern, and sometimes by the violent plunges she makes forward. This manoeuvre, then, is seldom resorted to in such case, unless through necessity. When the vessel is in a leaky condition, she is often put before the wind even in the heaviest seas; for, when lying to, her seams are sure to be greatly opened by her violent straining, and it is not so much the case when scudding. Often, too, it becomes necessary to scud a vessel, either when the blast is so exceedingly furious as to tear in pieces the sail which is employed with a view of bringing her head to the wind, or when, through the false modelling of the frame or other causes, this main object cannot be effected.
Peters suggested that he should go up on deck and start a conversation with the watch (Allen). In that way, he could easily throw him into the sea without creating any fuss by seizing the right moment. Augustus and I would then come up, try to find some kind of weapons on the deck, and together we would rush to secure the companion-way before anyone could stop us. I disagreed with this plan because I didn't think the mate, who was clever in all matters not related to his superstitions, would fall for such a simple trap. The fact that there was a watch on deck at all showed he was alert; it's not common to have a watch on deck when a ship is lying to in a gale of wind, unless the discipline on board is very strict. Since I'm primarily addressing people who have never been to sea, it might be good to explain what it means for a vessel to be "lying to." This term refers to a maneuver done for various reasons and in different ways. In moderate weather, it's often used just to stop the ship, maybe to wait for another vessel or something similar. If the ship is under full sail, the maneuver usually involves adjusting some of the sails to catch the wind in a way that stops the ship. However, we’re talking about lying to in a gale. This is when the wind is coming from the front, and it's too strong to sail safely without risking capsizing. Sometimes, even when the wind is favorable, the sea can be too rough to let the vessel sail forward. If a ship is allowed to run before the wind in very heavy seas, it usually suffers damage by taking water over the stern and from violent plunges forward. So, this maneuver is rarely used unless absolutely necessary. When a ship is leaky, it’s often put before the wind even in heavy seas because lying to causes her seams to open up more due to the strain, while scudding doesn't generally have that effect. Sometimes, it becomes essential to scud a vessel, either when the wind is so fierce that it tears the sails used to keep the ship head to the wind or when the ship's frame is poorly designed or other issues make it impossible to achieve that goal.
Vessels in a gale of wind are laid to in different manners, according to their peculiar construction. Some lie to best under a foresail, and this, I believe, is the sail most usually employed. Large square-rigged vessels have sails for the express purpose, called storm-staysails. But the jib is occasionally employed by itself—sometimes the jib and foresail, or a double-reefed foresail, and not unfrequently the after-sails, are made use of. Foretopsails are very often found to answer the purpose better than any other species of sail. The Grampus was generally laid to under a close-reefed foresail.
Vessels in a strong wind are secured in different ways, depending on their specific design. Some do best with just a foresail, which I believe is the most commonly used sail. Large square-rigged ships have special sails for this, called storm staysails. However, the jib is sometimes used on its own, or along with the foresail, a double-reefed foresail, and often the after-sails are utilized too. Foretopsails often work better than any other type of sail. The Grampus was usually secured with a close-reefed foresail.
When a vessel is to be laid to, her head is brought up to the wind just so nearly as to fill the sail under which she lies, when hauled flat aft, that is, when brought diagonally across the vessel. This being done, the bows point within a few degrees of the direction from which the wind issues, and the windward bow of course receives the shock of the waves. In this situation a good vessel will ride out a very heavy gale of wind without shipping a drop of water, and without any further attention being requisite on the part of the crew. The helm is usually lashed down, but this is altogether unnecessary (except on account of the noise it makes when loose), for the rudder has no effect upon the vessel when lying to. Indeed, the helm had far better be left loose than lashed very fast, for the rudder is apt to be torn off by heavy seas if there be no room for the helm to play. As long as the sail holds, a well-modelled vessel will maintain her situation, and ride every sea, as if instinct with life and reason. If the violence of the wind, however, should tear the sail into pieces (a feat which it requires a perfect hurricane to accomplish under ordinary circumstances), there is then imminent danger. The vessel falls off from the wind, and, coming broadside to the sea, is completely at its mercy: the only resource in this case is to put her quickly before the wind, letting her scud until some other sail can be set. Some vessels will lie to under no sail whatever, but such are not to be trusted at sea.
When a boat is going to be anchored, its head is turned into the wind just enough to fill the sail it’s lying under, which is pulled flat back, meaning it’s positioned diagonally across the vessel. Once this is done, the front of the boat is facing only a few degrees away from where the wind is coming from, and the windward side of the boat takes the brunt of the waves. In this position, a good boat can withstand a really strong wind without taking in any water and without needing any extra attention from the crew. The steering wheel is usually secured, but this isn’t necessary (except because it makes noise when it’s loose), since the steering won't affect the boat while it’s anchored. In fact, it’s better to leave the steering wheel loose rather than secured tightly, because strong waves can rip off the rudder if there’s no space for the wheel to move. As long as the sail stays intact, a well-designed boat will keep its position and handle every wave as if it had a life of its own. However, if the force of the wind rips the sail apart (which would require a full hurricane under normal circumstances), there’s a serious risk. The boat will turn away from the wind and, facing sideways to the waves, becomes completely vulnerable to them: the only option then is to quickly turn it to face the wind, allowing it to glide until another sail can be set up. Some boats cannot anchor without a sail at all, but those aren’t reliable at sea.
But to return from this digression. It had never been customary with the mate to have any watch on deck when lying to in a gale of wind, and the fact that he had now one, coupled with the circumstance of the missing axes and handspikes, fully convinced us that the crew were too well on the watch to be taken by surprise in the manner Peters had suggested. Something, however, was to be done, and that with as little delay as practicable, for there could be no doubt that a suspicion having been once entertained against Peters, he would be sacrificed upon the earliest occasion, and one would certainly be either found or made upon the breaking of the gale.
But to get back to the main point. It had never been the custom for the first mate to have any watch on deck while anchored in a storm, and the fact that he now had one, along with the missing axes and handspikes, made us fully convinced that the crew was too alert to be caught off guard in the way Peters had suggested. However, something had to be done, and quickly, because there was no doubt that once a suspicion was raised against Peters, he would be in danger at the first opportunity, and one would surely be found or created with the storm's end.
Augustus now suggested that if Peters could contrive to remove, under any pretext, the piece of chain-cable which lay over the trap in the stateroom, we might possibly be able to come upon them unawares by means of the hold; but a little reflection convinced us that the vessel rolled and pitched too violently for any attempt of that nature.
Augustus now suggested that if Peters could find a way to remove, for any reason, the piece of chain-cable that was over the trap in the stateroom, we might be able to catch them off guard through the hold; but after thinking it over, we realized that the ship was rolling and pitching too violently for any such attempt.
By good fortune I at length hit upon the idea of working upon the superstitious terrors and guilty conscience of the mate. It will be remembered that one of the crew, Hartman Rogers, had died during the morning, having been attacked two days before with spasms after drinking some spirits and water. Peters had expressed to us his opinion that this man had been poisoned by the mate, and for this belief he had reasons, so he said, which were incontrovertible, but which he could not be prevailed upon to explain to us—this wayward refusal being only in keeping with other points of his singular character. But whether or not he had any better grounds for suspecting the mate than we had ourselves, we were easily led to fall in with his suspicion, and determined to act accordingly.
By good luck, I finally came up with the idea of exploiting the superstitions and guilty conscience of the mate. It should be noted that one of the crew, Hartman Rogers, had died that morning after suffering spasms two days prior from drinking some spirits mixed with water. Peters had shared his belief that the mate had poisoned this man, claiming he had undeniable reasons for this belief, but he wouldn’t explain them to us—this stubborn refusal was typical of his unusual character. Whether or not he had any solid reasons for suspecting the mate beyond what we ourselves suspected, we were easily swayed by his suspicions and decided to act on them.
Rogers had died about eleven in the forenoon, in violent convulsions; and the corpse presented in a few minutes after death one of the most horrid and loathsome spectacles I ever remember to have seen. The stomach was swollen immensely, like that of a man who has been drowned and lain under water for many weeks. The hands were in the same condition, while the face was shrunken, shrivelled, and of a chalky whiteness, except where relieved by two or three glaring red splotches, like those occasioned by the erysipelas: one of these splotches extended diagonally across the face, completely covering up an eye as if with a band of red velvet. In this disgusting condition the body had been brought up from the cabin at noon to be thrown overboard, when the mate getting a glimpse of it (for he now saw it for the first time), and being either touched with remorse for his crime or struck with terror at so horrible a sight, ordered the men to sew the body up in its hammock, and allow it the usual rites of sea-burial. Having given these directions he went below, as if to avoid any further sight of his victim. While preparations were making to obey his orders, the gale came on with great fury, and the design was abandoned for the present. The corpse, left to itself, was washed into the larboard scuppers, where it still lay at the time of which I speak, floundering about with the furious lurches of the brig.
Rogers had died around eleven in the morning, having violent convulsions; and the body, just minutes after death, showed one of the most horrific and repulsive sights I can remember. The stomach was hugely swollen, like that of a man who has drowned and been underwater for weeks. The hands were in the same state, while the face was shrunken, wrinkled, and chalky white, except for a few glaring red spots, similar to those caused by erysipelas. One of these spots stretched diagonally across the face, completely covering one eye as if wrapped in a band of red velvet. In this disgusting state, the body was brought up from the cabin at noon to be thrown overboard, when the mate caught a glimpse of it (the first time he had seen it), and either out of remorse for his crime or terror at such a horrible sight, ordered the crew to wrap the body in its hammock and give it the usual sea burial rites. After giving these instructions, he went below deck, as if to avoid seeing his victim again. While they were getting ready to carry out his orders, a fierce gale picked up, and the plan was called off for the moment. The corpse, left alone, was washed into the port scuppers, where it still lay at the time I’m describing, tossed around by the violent movements of the brig.
Having arranged our plan, we set about putting it in execution as speedily as possible. Peters went upon deck, and, as he had anticipated, was immediately accosted by Allen, who appeared to be stationed more as a watch upon the forecastle than for any other purpose. The fate of this villain, however, was speedily and silently decided; for Peters, approaching him in a careless manner, as if about to address him, seized him by the throat, and, before he could utter a single cry, tossed him over the bulwarks. He then called to us, and we came up. Our first precaution was to look about for something with which to arm ourselves, and in doing this we had to proceed with great care, for it was impossible to stand on deck an instant without holding fast, and violent seas broke over the vessel at every plunge forward. It was indispensable, too, that we should be quick in our operations, for every minute we expected the mate to be up to set the pumps going, as it was evident the brig must be taking in water very fast. After searching about for some time, we could find nothing more fit for our purpose than the two pump-handles, one of which Augustus took, and I the other. Having secured these, we stripped off the shirt of the corpse and dropped the body overboard. Peters and myself then went below, leaving Augustus to watch upon deck, where he took his station just where Allen had been placed, and with his back to the cabin companion-way, so that, if any one of the mate's gang should come up, he might suppose it was the watch.
Having made our plan, we quickly got to work executing it. Peters went up on deck and, as he expected, was immediately approached by Allen, who seemed to be keeping watch on the forecastle. The fate of this villain was decided swiftly and quietly; as Peters walked over casually, as if he was about to talk to him, he grabbed him by the throat and, before Allen could make a sound, threw him over the side of the ship. He then called for us, and we came up. Our first step was to look around for something to use as weapons, and we had to be very careful doing this, because it was impossible to stand on deck for even a moment without holding on, as violent waves crashed over the ship with every lurch. We also needed to be quick, since we expected the mate to come up any minute to start the pumps, as it was clear the brig was taking on water fast. After searching for a while, we found nothing better for our purpose than two pump-handles, one of which Augustus took and I took the other. After securing these, we stripped the shirt off the corpse and tossed the body overboard. Peters and I then went below, leaving Augustus to keep watch on deck, where he stood in the same spot Allen had occupied, with his back to the cabin stairs, so that anyone from the mate's crew coming up would think he was part of the watch.
As soon as I got below I commenced disguising myself so as to represent the corpse of Rogers. The shirt which we had taken from the body aided us very much, for it was of a singular form and character, and easily recognisable—a kind of smock, which the deceased wore over his other clothing. It was a blue stockinett, with large white stripes running across. Having put this on, I proceeded to equip myself with a false stomach, in imitation of the horrible deformity of the swollen corpse. This was soon effected by means of stuffing with some bedclothes. I then gave the same appearance to my hands by drawing on a pair of white woollen mittens, and filling them in with any kind of rags that offered themselves. Peters then arranged my face, first rubbing it well over with white chalk, and afterward splotching it with blood, which he took from a cut in his finger. The streak across the eye was not forgotten, and presented a most shocking appearance.
As soon as I got below, I started disguising myself to look like the corpse of Rogers. The shirt we had taken from the body was really helpful because it had a unique shape and was easily recognizable—it looked like a smock that the deceased wore over his other clothes. It was made of blue stockinette with large white stripes going across it. After putting that on, I went ahead and created a fake stomach to mimic the horrible swollen body. I did this by stuffing some bedclothes. I then made my hands look similar by putting on a pair of white wool mittens and filling them with any rags I could find. Peters helped me by arranging my face, first rubbing it with white chalk and then splattering it with blood from a cut on his finger. He also made sure to add a streak across my eye, which looked really shocking.
CHAPTER VIII.
As I viewed myself in a fragment of looking-glass which hung up in the cabin, and by the dim light of a kind of battle-lantern, I was so impressed with a sense of vague awe at my appearance, and at the recollection of the terrific reality which I was thus representing, that I was seized with a violent tremour, and could scarcely summon resolution to go on with my part. It was necessary, however, to act with decision, and Peters and myself went upon deck.
As I looked at myself in a piece of mirror that was hanging up in the cabin, and by the dim light of a kind of battle lantern, I felt a strange sense of awe at my appearance and at the memory of the terrifying reality I was representing. I was hit with a violent shiver and could hardly muster the courage to continue with my role. However, it was essential to act decisively, so Peters and I went up on deck.
We there found everything safe, and, keeping close to the bulwarks, the three of us crept to the cabin companion-way. It was only partially closed, precautions having been taken to prevent its being suddenly pushed to from without, by means of placing billets of wood on the upper step so as to interfere with the shutting. We found no difficulty in getting a full view of the interior of the cabin through the cracks where the hinges were placed. It now proved to have been very fortunate for us that we had not attempted to take them by surprise, for they were evidently on the alert. Only one was asleep, and he lying just at the foot of the companion-ladder, with a musket by his side. The rest were seated on several mattresses, which had been taken from the berths and thrown on the floor. They were engaged in earnest conversation; and although they had been carousing, as appeared from two empty jugs, with some tin tumblers which lay about, they were not as much intoxicated as usual. All had knives, one or two of them pistols, and a great many muskets were lying in a berth close at hand.
We found everything safe, and staying close to the sides of the ship, the three of us quietly made our way to the cabin stairs. The door was only partially closed, with precautions taken to stop it from being suddenly closed from outside by putting pieces of wood on the upper step to block it. We had no trouble getting a clear view of the inside of the cabin through the gaps around the hinges. It turned out to be very lucky that we hadn't tried to catch them off guard, because they were clearly on high alert. Only one person was asleep, lying at the foot of the stairs with a musket by his side. The others were sitting on several mattresses that had been pulled from the bunks and thrown on the floor. They were deep in conversation; although they had been drinking—as indicated by two empty jugs and some tin cups lying around—they weren't as drunk as usual. They all had knives, one or two had pistols, and a lot of muskets were resting in a nearby bunk.
We listened to their conversation for some time before we could make up our minds how to act, having as yet resolved on nothing determinate, except that we would attempt to paralyze their exertions, when we should attack them, by means of the apparition of Rogers. They were discussing their piratical plans, in which all we could hear distinctly was, that they would unite with the crew of a schooner Hornet, and, if possible, get the schooner herself into their possession preparatory to some attempt on a large scale, the particulars of which could not be made out by either of us.
We listened to their conversation for a while before figuring out how to act, having not decided on anything specific, other than that we would try to throw them off by using the ghost of Rogers when we attacked. They were talking about their pirate plans, and the only thing we could clearly hear was that they intended to team up with the crew of a schooner named Hornet and, if possible, take control of the schooner itself to prepare for some major operation, the details of which neither of us could understand.
One of the men spoke of Peters, when the mate replied to him in a low voice which could not be distinguished, and afterward added more loudly, that "he could not understand his being so much forward with the captain's brat in the forecastle, and he thought the sooner both of them were overboard the better." To this no answer was made, but we could easily perceive that the hint was well received by the whole party, and more particularly by Jones. At this period I was excessively agitated, the more so as I could see that neither Augustus nor Peters could determine how to act. I made up my mind, however, to sell my life as dearly as possible, and not to suffer myself to be overcome by any feelings of trepidation.
One of the guys mentioned Peters, and the mate replied to him in a low voice that was hard to hear, then added more loudly that he couldn't understand why Peters was getting so cozy with the captain's kid in the forecastle, and he thought it would be better if both of them were thrown overboard. No one responded to this, but we could tell that everyone, especially Jones, took the hint. At that moment, I was extremely uneasy, especially since I could see that neither Augustus nor Peters knew what to do. However, I resolved to fight for my life as fiercely as I could and not let myself be overwhelmed by fear.
The tremendous noise made by the roaring of the wind in the rigging and the washing of the sea over the deck prevented us from hearing what was said except during momentary lulls. In one of these we all distinctly heard the mate tell one of the men to "go forward, and order the d——d lubbers to come into the cabin, where he could have an eye upon them, for he wanted no such secret doings on board the brig." It was well for us that the pitching of the vessel at this moment was so violent as to prevent this order from being carried into instant execution. The cook got up from his mattress to go for us, when a tremendous lurch, which I thought would carry away the masts, threw him headlong against one of the larboard stateroom doors, bursting it open, and creating a good deal of other confusion. Luckily, neither of our party was thrown from his position, and we had time to make a precipitate retreat to the forecastle, and arrange a hurried plan of action before the messenger made his appearance, or rather before he put his head out of the companion-hatch, for he did not come on deck. From this station he could not notice the absence of Allen, and he accordingly bawled out as if to him, repeating the orders of the mate. Peters cried out, "Ay, ay," in a disguised voice, and the cook immediately went below, without entertaining a suspicion that all was not right.
The loud howling of the wind in the rigging and the crashing of the waves over the deck made it hard for us to hear anything said, except during brief moments of calm. In one of these pauses, we all clearly heard the mate tell one of the crew to "go forward and tell those lazy guys to come into the cabin, where he could keep an eye on them because he didn't want any secret stuff happening on the brig." It was fortunate for us that the ship was pitching so violently at that moment that this order couldn't be carried out immediately. The cook got up from his mattress to fetch us, when a huge lurch, which I thought would take down the masts, threw him hard against one of the port stateroom doors, bursting it open and causing a lot of chaos. Thankfully, neither of us was knocked off balance, and we had time to make a quick escape to the forecastle to quickly plan our next move before the messenger showed up, or rather, before he poked his head out of the companion hatch, since he didn't come on deck. From his position, he couldn't see that Allen was missing, so he shouted as if addressing him, repeating the mate's orders. Peters responded, "Ay, ay," in a disguised voice, and the cook went below without suspecting anything was wrong.
My two companions now proceeded boldly aft and down into the cabin, Peters closing the door after him in the same manner he had found it. The mate received them with feigned cordiality, and told Augustus that, since he had behaved himself so well of late, he might take up his quarters in the cabin, and be one of them for the future. He then poured him out a tumbler half full of rum, and made him drink it. All this I saw and heard, for I followed my friends to the cabin as soon as the door was shut, and took up my old point of observation. I had brought with me the two pump-handles, one of which I secured near the companion-way, to be ready for use when required.
My two friends confidently walked to the back and down into the cabin, with Peters shutting the door behind him just like he found it. The mate greeted them with fake friendliness and told Augustus that, since he had been behaving himself well lately, he could move into the cabin and join them from now on. He then poured him a glass half full of rum and made him drink it. I saw and heard all of this because I followed my friends into the cabin as soon as the door closed and took up my usual spot to observe. I had brought the two pump handles with me, one of which I secured near the stairs, so it would be ready for use when needed.
I now steadied myself as well as possible so as to have a good view of all that was passing within, and endeavoured to nerve myself to the task of descending among the mutineers when Peters should make a signal to me as agreed upon. Presently he contrived to turn the conversation upon the bloody deeds of the mutiny, and, by degrees, led the men to talk of the thousand superstitions which are so universally current among seamen. I could not make out all that was said, but I could plainly see the effects of the conversation in the countenances of those present. The mate was evidently much agitated, and presently, when some one mentioned the terrific appearance of Rogers's corpse, I thought he was upon the point of swooning. Peters now asked him if he did not think it would be better to have the body thrown overboard at once, as it was too horrible a sight to see it floundering about in the scuppers. At this the villain absolutely gasped for breath, and turned his head slowly round upon his companions, as if imploring some one to go up and perform the task. No one, however, stirred, and it was quite evident that the whole party were wound up to the highest pitch of nervous excitement. Peters now made me the signal. I immediately threw open the door of the companion-way, and, descending without uttering a syllable, stood erect in the midst of the party.
I steadied myself as best as I could to get a good view of everything happening inside and tried to prepare myself for the task of confronting the mutineers when Peters gave me the agreed signal. Soon, he managed to steer the conversation toward the violent events of the mutiny and gradually got the men talking about the countless superstitions commonly shared by sailors. I couldn’t catch every word, but I could clearly see the impact of the discussion on the faces of those present. The mate looked extremely agitated, and when someone mentioned the horrifying sight of Rogers's corpse, I thought he might faint. Peters then asked him if he thought it would be better to throw the body overboard right away since it was too gruesome to have it flopping around in the scuppers. At this, the guy gasped for breath and slowly turned his head toward his companions, as if pleading for someone to go up and take care of it. However, no one moved, and it was obvious that the whole group was extremely on edge. Peters then signaled me. I quickly opened the companion-way door, and without saying a word, descended and stood tall in the middle of the group.
The intense effect produced by this sudden apparition is not at all to be wondered at when the various circumstances are taken into consideration. Usually, in cases of a similar nature, there is left in the mind of the spectator some glimmering of doubt as to the reality of the vision before his eyes; a degree of hope, however feeble, that he is the victim of chicanery, and that the apparition is not actually a visitant from the world of shadows. It is not too much to say that such remnants of doubt have been at the bottom of almost every such visitation, and that the appalling horror which has sometimes been brought about, is to be attributed, even in the cases most in point, and where most suffering has been experienced, more to a kind of anticipative horror, lest the apparition might possibly be real, than to an unwavering belief in its reality. But, in the present instance, it will be seen immediately, that in the minds of the mutineers there was not even the shadow of a basis upon which to rest a doubt that the apparition of Rogers was indeed a revivification of his disgusting corpse, or at least its spiritual image. The isolated situation of the brig, with its entire inaccessibility on account of the gale, confined the apparently possible means of deception within such narrow and definite limits, that they must have thought themselves enabled to survey them all at a glance. They had now been at sea twenty-four days, without holding more than a speaking communication with any vessel whatever. The whole of the crew, too, at least all whom they had the most remote reason for suspecting to be on board, were assembled in the cabin, with the exception of Allen, the watch; and his gigantic stature (he was six feet six inches high) was too familiar in their eyes to permit the notion that he was the apparition before them to enter their minds even for an instant. Add to these considerations the awe-inspiring nature of the tempest, and that of the conversation brought about by Peters; the deep impression which the loathsomeness of the actual corpse had made in the morning upon the imaginations of the men; the excellence of the imitation in my person; and the uncertain and wavering light in which they beheld me, as the glare of the cabin lantern, swinging violently to and fro, fell dubiously and fitfully upon my figure, and there will be no reason to wonder that the deception had even more than the entire effect which we had anticipated. The mate sprang up from the mattress on which he was lying, and, without uttering a syllable, fell back, stone dead, upon the cabin floor, and was hurled to the leeward like a log by a heavy roll of the brig. Of the remaining seven there were but three who had at first any degree of presence of mind. The four others sat for some time rooted apparently to the floor, the most pitiable objects of horror and utter despair my eyes ever encountered. The only opposition we experienced at all was from the cook, John Hunt, and Richard Parker; but they made but a feeble and irresolute defence. The two former were shot instantly by Peters, and I felled Parker with a blow on the head from the pump-handle which I had brought with me. In the mean time Augustus seized one of the muskets lying on the floor, and shot another mutineer (—— Wilson) through the breast. There were now but three remaining; but by this time they had become aroused from their lethargy, and perhaps began to see that a deception had been practised upon them, for they fought with great resolution and fury, and, but for the immense muscular strength of Peters, might have ultimately got the better of us. These three men were —— Jones, —— Greely, and Absalom Hicks. Jones had thrown Augustus on the floor, stabbed him in several places along the right arm, and would no doubt have soon despatched him (as neither Peters nor myself could immediately get rid of our own antagonists), had it not been for the timely aid of a friend upon whose assistance we surely had never depended. This friend was no other than Tiger. With a low growl he bounded into the cabin, at a most critical moment for Augustus, and throwing himself upon Jones, pinned him to the floor in an instant. My friend, however, was now too much injured to render us any aid whatever, and I was so encumbered with my disguise that I could do but little. The dog would not leave his hold upon the throat of Jones—Peters, nevertheless, was far more than a match for the two men who remained, and would, no doubt, have despatched them sooner, had it not been for the narrow space in which he had to act, and the tremendous lurches of the vessel. Presently he was enabled to get hold of a heavy stool, several of which lay about the floor. With this he beat out the brains of Greely as he was in the act of discharging a musket at me, and immediately afterward a roll of the brig throwing him in contact with Hicks, he seized him by the throat, and, by dint of sheer strength, strangled him instantaneously. Thus, in far less time than I have taken to tell it, we found ourselves masters of the brig.
The intense reaction caused by this sudden appearance is not surprising when all the circumstances are considered. Typically, in similar situations, the observer is left with some lingering doubt about the reality of what they see; there's a faint hope, no matter how weak, that they are being tricked, and that the apparition is not genuinely a visitor from the afterlife. It's fair to say that those remnants of doubt have underpinned nearly every such encounter, and that the chilling horror that sometimes results can often be traced back to an anticipatory dread that the apparition *might actually be* real, rather than an unshakeable belief in its existence. However, in this case, it will soon be clear that the mutineers had no reason to doubt that the apparition of Rogers was, in fact, a reanimation of his gruesome corpse or at least its ghostly form. The brig's isolated location, made completely inaccessible by the storm, limited any possible means of deception to such a tight scope that they must have thought they could consider them all at once. They had been at sea for twenty-four days without more than a brief communication with any ship. The entire crew, at least those they had any reason to suspect were aboard, were gathered in the cabin, except for Allen, who was on watch; and his towering height (he was six feet six inches tall) was so familiar to them that they could not have thought for a moment that he was the apparition they saw. Adding to these factors was the terrifying nature of the storm, combined with the unsettling conversation prompted by Peters; the strong impression the repulsiveness of the actual corpse had made on the men that morning; the effectiveness of my disguise; and the dim and flickering light in which they saw me, as the bright cabin lantern swung wildly, casting shadows over my figure. This explains why the ruse had an even greater impact than we had expected. The mate jumped up from the mattress he was lying on, and without saying a word, collapsed back dead on the cabin floor, thrown to the side like a log by a heavy roll of the brig. Of the remaining seven, only three initially maintained any presence of mind. The other four seemed frozen to the floor, the most pitiful sights of horror and despair I've ever seen. The only resistance we faced came from the cook, John Hunt, and Richard Parker, but their defense was feeble and hesitant. Peters quickly shot the two of them, and I knocked out Parker with a blow to the head from the pump-handle I'd brought with me. Meanwhile, Augustus grabbed one of the muskets from the floor and shot another mutineer (—— Wilson) in the chest. There were now just three left, but by this time they had snapped out of their stupor and perhaps began to realize they had been deceived, fighting back fiercely. If not for Peters' incredible strength, they might have overpowered us. These three men were —— Jones, —— Greely, and Absalom Hicks. Jones had thrown Augustus to the ground, stabbed him several times in the right arm, and would have likely killed him (as neither Peters nor I could immediately shake off our own attackers) if it hadn't been for the timely intervention of a friend we never expected to rely on. This friend was none other than Tiger. With a low growl, he leaped into the cabin right when Augustus needed help the most, and immediately tackled Jones, pinning him to the floor. However, my friend was now too injured to help us further, and I was so encumbered by my disguise that I could do little. The dog wouldn’t let go of Jones’ throat—still, Peters was more than capable of handling the two men who remained and would likely have finished them off sooner if he hadn’t been constrained by the small space and the violent rocking of the ship. Eventually, he managed to grab a heavy stool—I noticed several lying around. With it, he crushed Greely’s skull as he was about to shoot at me, and then, after a roll of the brig knocked him against Hicks, he seized him by the throat and, through sheer force, strangled him instantly. Thus, in far less time than I have taken to tell it, we found ourselves in control of the brig.
The only person of our opponents who was left alive was Richard Parker. This man, it will be remembered, I had knocked down with a blow from the pump-handle at the commencement of the attack. He now lay motionless by the door of the shattered stateroom; but, upon Peters touching him with his foot, he spoke, and entreated for mercy. His head was only slightly cut, and otherwise he had received no injury, having been merely stunned by the blow. He now got up, and, for the present, we secured his hands behind his back. The dog was still growling over Jones; but, upon examination, we found him completely dead, the blood issuing in a stream from a deep wound in the throat, inflicted, no doubt, by the sharp teeth of the animal.
The only one of our opponents still alive was Richard Parker. This guy, you'll remember, I had knocked down with a hit from the pump handle at the start of the attack. He was now lying still by the door of the broken stateroom, but when Peters nudged him with his foot, he spoke up and begged for mercy. His head was only slightly cut, and other than that, he wasn’t hurt; he had just been stunned by the blow. He got up, and for the time being, we tied his hands behind his back. The dog was still growling over Jones, but when we checked, we found him completely dead, with blood pouring from a deep wound in his throat, likely caused by the animal’s sharp teeth.
It was now about one o'clock in the morning, and the wind was still blowing tremendously. The brig evidently laboured much more than usual, and it became absolutely necessary that something should be done with a view of easing her in some measure. At almost every roll to leeward she shipped a sea, several of which came partially down into the cabin during our scuffle, the hatchway having been left open by myself when I descended. The entire range of bulwarks to larboard had been swept away, as well as the caboose, together with the jollyboat from the counter. The creaking and working of the mainmast, too, gave indication that it was nearly sprung. To make room for more stowage in the after hold, the heel of this mast had been stepped between decks (a very reprehensible practice, occasionally resorted to by ignorant ship-builders), so that it was in imminent danger of working from its step. But, to crown all our difficulties, we plummed the well, and found no less than seven feet water.
It was around one o'clock in the morning, and the wind was still howling fiercely. The brig was clearly struggling more than usual, and it became crucial that we take action to relieve some of the pressure. With almost every roll to the side, it took on water, some of which splashed down into the cabin during our chaos, since I had left the hatchway open when I went down. The entire bulwark on the left side had been wiped out, along with the stove and the small boat on the back. The creaking and straining of the mainmast also suggested that it was about to break. To create more space for storage in the rear hold, the base of this mast had been placed between decks (a very questionable practice sometimes done by clueless shipbuilders), putting it at serious risk of coming loose from its base. But, to top off all our problems, we checked the water level and found we had seven feet of water in the hold.
Leaving the bodies of the crew lying in the cabin, we got to work immediately at the pumps—Parker, of course, being set at liberty to assist us in the labour. Augustus's arm was bound up as well as we could effect it, and he did what he could, but that was not much. However, we found that we could just manage to keep the leak from gaining upon us by having one pump constantly going. As there were only four of us, this was severe labour; but we endeavoured to keep up our spirits, and looked anxiously for daybreak, when we hoped to lighten the brig by cutting away the mainmast.
Leaving the crew's bodies in the cabin, we immediately got to work on the pumps—Parker was, of course, allowed to help us with the task. We did our best to bandage Augustus's arm, and he contributed what he could, though it wasn't much. Fortunately, we managed to keep the leak from overtaking us by keeping one pump running constantly. Since there were only four of us, it was hard work, but we tried to stay positive and looked forward to daybreak, when we hoped to lighten the brig by cutting away the mainmast.
In this manner we passed a night of terrible anxiety and fatigue, and, when the day at length broke, the gale had neither abated in the least, nor were there any signs of its abating. We now dragged the bodies on deck and threw them overboard. Our next care was to get rid of the mainmast. The necessary preparations having been made, Peters cut away at the mast (having found axes in the cabin), while the rest of us stood by the stays and lanyards. As the brig gave a tremendous lee-lurch, the word was given to cut away the weather-lanyards, which being done, the whole mass of wood and rigging plunged into the sea, clear of the brig, and without doing any material injury. We now found that the vessel did not labour quite as much as before, but our situation was still exceedingly precarious, and, in spite of the utmost exertions, we could not gain upon the leak without the aid of both pumps. The little assistance which Augustus could render us was not really of any importance. To add to our distress, a heavy sea, striking the brig to windward, threw her off several points from the wind, and, before she could regain her position, another broke completely over her, and hurled her full upon her beam-ends. The ballast now shifted in a mass to leeward (the stowage had been knocking about perfectly at random for some time), and for a few moments we thought nothing could save us from capsizing. Presently, however, we partially righted; but the ballast still retaining its place to larboard, we lay so much along that it was useless to think of working the pumps, which indeed we could not have done much longer in any case, as our hands were entirely raw with the excessive labour we had undergone, and were bleeding in the most horrible manner.
We spent a night filled with intense anxiety and exhaustion, and when the day finally arrived, the storm hadn't calmed down at all, nor were there any signs that it would. We dragged the bodies onto the deck and threw them overboard. Our next concern was to get rid of the mainmast. Once we had everything ready, Peters began chopping at the mast (having found axes in the cabin), while the rest of us held onto the stays and lanyards. Just as the brig lurched heavily to the side, we were told to cut the weather-lanyards. Once we did that, the entire mass of wood and rigging fell into the sea, clear of the brig, without causing any significant damage. We noticed that the vessel was not struggling as much as before, but our situation was still extremely dangerous, and despite our best efforts, we couldn't make any progress on the leak without using both pumps. The little help Augustus provided was not really significant. To make matters worse, a heavy wave hit the brig from the windward side, pushing her off course, and before she could regain her position, another wave crashed over her, nearly capsizing us. The ballast then shifted heavily to the leeward side (the cargo had been moving randomly for quite some time), and for a moment we thought nothing could save us from tipping over. Eventually, we partially righted ourselves, but with the ballast still settled to the left, we were tilted so much that using the pumps became pointless, and in any case, we couldn't have managed it much longer since our hands were completely raw from the intense work we had done, bleeding badly.
Contrary to Parker's advice, we now proceeded to cut away the foremast, and at length accomplished it after much difficulty, owing to the position in which we lay. In going overboard the wreck took with it the bowsprit, and left us a complete hulk.
Unlike Parker's advice, we went ahead and cut down the foremast, and after a lot of struggle, we finally managed to do it, given the awkward position we were in. When we went overboard, the wreck took the bowsprit with it, leaving us with just a complete hulk.
So far we had had reason to rejoice in the escape of our longboat, which had received no damage from any of the huge seas which had come on board. But we had not long to congratulate ourselves; for the foremast having gone, and, of course, the foresail with it, by which the brig had been steadied, every sea now made a complete breach over us, and in five minutes our deck was swept from stem to stern, the longboat and starboard bulwarks torn off, and even the windlass shattered into fragments. It was, indeed, hardly possible for us to be in a more pitiable condition.
So far, we had reason to celebrate the survival of our lifeboat, which had come through the massive waves without any damage. But we didn’t have long to feel proud; when the foremast came down, it took the foresail with it, which had kept the brig stable. Now, every wave came crashing over us, and in just five minutes, our deck was swept clean from front to back, the lifeboat and the starboard bulwarks were ripped away, and even the windlass was shattered into pieces. It was, truly, hard for us to be in a worse situation.
At noon there seemed to be some slight appearance of the gale's abating, but in this we were sadly disappointed, for it only lulled for a few minutes to blow with redoubled fury. About four in the afternoon it was utterly impossible to stand up against the violence of the blast; and, as the night closed in upon us, I had not a shadow of hope that the vessel would hold together until morning.
At noon, it looked like the storm might be easing up a bit, but we were unfortunately let down, as it only calmed for a few minutes before blasting even harder. Around four in the afternoon, it became completely impossible to stand against the force of the wind; and as night fell, I had no hope that the ship would last until morning.
By midnight we had settled very deep in the water, which was now up to the orlop deck. The rudder went soon afterward, the sea which tore it away lifting the after portion of the brig entirely from the water, against which she thumped in her descent with such a concussion as would be occasioned by going ashore. We had all calculated that the rudder would hold its own to the last, as it was unusually strong, being rigged as I have never seen one rigged either before or since. Down its main timber there ran a succession of stout iron hooks, and others in the same manner down the stern-post. Through these hooks there extended a very thick wrought-iron rod, the rudder being thus held to the stern-post, and swinging freely on the rod. The tremendous force of the sea which tore it off may be estimated by the fact, that the hooks in the stern-post, which ran entirely through it, being clinched on the inside, were drawn every one of them completely out of the solid wood.
By midnight, we had sunk quite deep into the water, which was now up to the orlop deck. The rudder went not long after that, as the sea wrenched it away, lifting the back end of the brig completely out of the water, which she slammed down against with a shock similar to hitting land. We all thought the rudder would last until the end, as it was exceptionally strong, rigged in a way I'd never seen before or since. Down its main timber were a series of sturdy iron hooks, with more down the stern-post in the same way. A thick wrought-iron rod passed through these hooks, securing the rudder to the stern-post while allowing it to swing freely on the rod. The incredible force of the sea that pulled it off can be judged by the fact that the hooks in the stern-post, which went all the way through it and were clinched inside, were completely pulled out of the solid wood.
We had scarcely time to draw breath after the violence of this shock, when one of the most tremendous waves I had then ever known broke right on board of us, sweeping the companion-way clear off, bursting in the hatchways, and filling every inch of the vessel with water.
We barely had a moment to breathe after the impact of this shock when one of the biggest waves I had ever experienced crashed right onto us, sweeping the stairway completely away, breaking through the hatches, and flooding every part of the ship with water.
CHAPTER IX.
Luckily, just before night, all four of us had lashed ourselves firmly to the fragments of the windlass, lying in this manner as flat upon the deck as possible. This precaution alone saved us from destruction. As it was, we were all more or less stunned by the immense weight of water which tumbled upon us, and which did not roll from above us until we were nearly exhausted. As soon as I could recover breath, I called aloud to my companions. Augustus alone replied, saying, "It is all over with us, and may God have mercy upon our souls." By-and-by both the others were enabled to speak, when they exhorted us to take courage, as there was still hope; it being impossible, from the nature of the cargo, that the brig could go down, and there being every chance that the gale would blow over by the morning. These words inspired me with new life; for, strange as it may seem, although it was obvious that a vessel with a cargo of empty oil-casks would not sink, I had been hitherto so confused in mind as to have overlooked this consideration altogether; and the danger which I had for some time regarded as the most imminent was that of foundering. As hope revived within me, I made use of every opportunity to strengthen the lashings which held me to the remains of the windlass, and in this occupation I soon discovered that my companions were also busy. The night was as dark as it could possibly be, and the horrible shrieking din and confusion which surrounded us it is useless to attempt describing. Our deck lay level with the sea, or rather we were encircled with a towering ridge of foam, a portion of which swept over us every instant. It is not too much to say that our heads were not fairly out of water more than one second in three. Although we lay close together, no one of us could see the other, or, indeed, any portion of the brig itself, upon which we were so tempestuously hurled about. At intervals we called one to the other, thus endeavouring to keep alive hope, and render consolation and encouragement to such of us as stood most in need of it. The feeble condition of Augustus made him an object of solicitude with us all; and as, from the lacerated condition of his right arm, it must have been impossible for him to secure his lashings with any degree of firmness, we were in momentary expectation of finding that he had gone overboard—yet to render him aid was a thing altogether out of the question. Fortunately, his station was more secure than that of any of the rest of us; for the upper part of his body lying just beneath a portion of the shattered windlass, the seas, as they tumbled in upon him, were greatly broken in their violence. In any other situation than this (into which he had been accidentally thrown after having lashed himself in a very exposed spot) he must inevitably have perished before morning. Owing to the brig's lying so much along, we were all less liable to be washed off than otherwise would have been the case. The heel, as I have before stated, was to larboard, about one half of the deck being constantly under water. The seas, therefore, which struck us to starboard were much broken by the vessel's side, only reaching us in fragments as we lay flat on our faces; while those which came from larboard, being what are called back-water seas, and obtaining little hold upon us on account of our posture, had not sufficient force to drag us from our fastenings.
Fortunately, just before nightfall, all four of us had securely tied ourselves to the pieces of the windlass, lying as flat as possible on the deck. This precaution alone saved us from disaster. As it was, we were all somewhat dazed by the massive weight of water that crashed over us, which didn’t stop until we were nearly worn out. Once I could catch my breath, I called out to my friends. Augustus was the only one who responded, saying, "It's all over for us, and may God have mercy on our souls." Eventually, the others were able to speak and urged us to stay hopeful, as it was impossible for the brig to sink given the nature of the cargo, and there was every chance the storm would pass by morning. Their words filled me with renewed hope; strangely enough, even though it was clear that a vessel with empty oil barrels wouldn’t sink, I had been so overwhelmed that I had completely overlooked this fact. The danger I had seen as the most pressing was the risk of going under. As hope surged within me, I seized every chance to tighten the lashings keeping me to the remains of the windlass, and soon realized my companions were also busy doing the same. The night was pitch black, and the terrifying sounds and chaos around us are beyond description. The deck was level with the sea, or rather, we were surrounded by a towering wall of foam, a part of which swept over us every moment. Our heads were rarely above water for more than a second in three. Although we lay close together, none of us could see one another or even a part of the brig that was tossing us around so violently. Occasionally, we called out to each other, trying to keep hope alive and offer comfort and encouragement to those who needed it most. Augustus's weak condition made him a concern for all of us, and since his right arm was so badly hurt, it was likely impossible for him to secure his lashings tightly, making us fear he might fall overboard at any moment—but helping him was completely out of the question. Fortunately, his position was actually safer than any of ours; the upper part of his body was tucked beneath a section of the broken windlass, which reduced the force of the waves crashing in on him. In any other situation (which he had ended up in after tying himself down in a very exposed area), he would have almost certainly perished before morning. Because the brig was leaning so much, we were all less likely to be washed away than we otherwise would have been. As I mentioned earlier, the vessel was tilted to the left, with about half of the deck constantly under water. Therefore, the waves striking us from the right were much less forceful due to the vessel's side, reaching us only in splashes as we lay flat on our faces; while those coming from the left, known as backwater seas, didn’t have enough pull on us because of our position, so they lacked the force to drag us from our bindings.
In this frightful situation we lay until the day broke so as to show us more fully the horrors which surrounded us. The brig was a mere log, rolling about at the mercy of every wave; the gale was upon the increase, if anything, blowing indeed a complete hurricane, and there appeared to us no earthly prospect of deliverance. For several hours we held on in silence, expecting every moment that our lashings would either give way, that the remains of the windlass would go by the board, or that some of the huge seas, which roared in every direction around us and above us, would drive the hulk so far beneath the water that we should be drowned before it could regain the surface. By the mercy of God, however, we were preserved from these imminent dangers, and about midday were cheered by the light of the blessed sun. Shortly afterward we could perceive a sensible diminution in the force of the wind, when, now for the first time since the latter part of the evening before, Augustus spoke, asking Peters, who lay closest to him, if he thought there was any possibility of our being saved. As no reply was at first made to this question, we all concluded that the hybrid had been drowned where he lay; but presently, to our great joy, he spoke, although very feebly, saying that he was in great pain, being so cut by the tightness of his lashings across the stomach, that he must either find means of loosening them or perish, as it was impossible that he could endure his misery much longer. This occasioned us great distress, as it was altogether useless to think of aiding him in any manner while the sea continued washing over us as it did. We exhorted him to bear his sufferings with fortitude, and promised to seize the first opportunity which should offer itself to relieve him. He replied that it would soon be too late; that it would be all over with him before we could help him; and then, after moaning for some minutes, lay silent, when we concluded that he had perished.
In this terrifying situation, we stayed put until dawn broke, revealing the full extent of the horrors around us. The brig was nothing more than a log, tossed about helplessly by every wave; the wind was picking up, blowing like a full hurricane, and we saw no hope of rescue. For several hours, we held on in silence, fearing our bindings would break, that the remains of the windlass would be swept away, or that one of the massive waves crashing around us would drag the hulk underwater, drowning us before it could resurface. However, by God’s mercy, we were spared these dangers, and around midday we were uplifted by the light of the blessed sun. Soon after, we noticed a noticeable decrease in the wind's intensity when, for the first time since the previous evening, Augustus spoke, asking Peters, who was closest to him, if he thought there was any chance we could be saved. When there was no immediate response, we feared that he had drowned where he lay; but then, to our relief, he spoke, although very weakly, saying he was in great pain from the tightness of his bindings across his stomach and that he needed to loosen them or he would die, as he couldn’t bear the agony much longer. This caused us great distress, as it was utterly futile to think of helping him while the sea continued to wash over us. We urged him to endure his suffering with courage and promised to take the first chance we could to relieve him. He replied that it would soon be too late; that he would perish before we could help him; and then, after moaning for several minutes, he fell silent, leading us to believe he had died.
As the evening drew on, the sea had fallen so much that scarcely more than one wave broke over the hulk from windward in the course of five minutes, and the wind had abated a great deal, although still blowing a severe gale. I had not heard any of my companions speak for hours, and now called to Augustus. He replied, although very feebly, so that I could not distinguish what he said. I then spoke to Peters and to Parker, neither of whom returned any answer.
As the evening went on, the sea had calmed down a lot, with barely one wave crashing over the wreck from the windward side every five minutes. The wind had also eased significantly, though it was still blowing quite hard. I hadn’t heard any of my companions speak for hours, so I called out to Augustus. He replied, but very weakly, so I couldn’t make out what he said. I then spoke to Peters and Parker, but neither of them responded.
Shortly after this period I fell into a state of partial insensibility, during which the most pleasing images floated in my imagination; such as green trees, waving meadows of ripe grain, processions of dancing girls, troops of cavalry, and other phantasies. I now remember that, in all which passed before my mind's eye, motion was a predominant idea. Thus, I never fancied any stationary object, such as a house, a mountain, or anything of that kind; but windmills, ships, large birds, balloons, people on horseback, carriages driving furiously, and similar moving objects, presented themselves in endless succession. When I recovered from this state, the sun was, as near as I could guess, an hour high. I had the greatest difficulty in bringing to recollection the various circumstances connected with my situation, and for some time remained firmly convinced that I was still in the hold of the brig, near the box, and that the body of Parker was that of Tiger.
Shortly after this time, I slipped into a state of partial unawareness, during which the most delightful images floated through my mind, like green trees, waving fields of ripe grain, processions of dancing girls, cavalry troops, and other fantasies. I now recall that, in everything that appeared before my mind's eye, motion was the main theme. I never imagined any stationary objects, like houses, mountains, or anything similar; instead, I saw windmills, ships, large birds, balloons, people on horseback, and carriages rushing by, all coming in an endless stream. When I came to myself again, the sun was, as far as I could tell, about an hour high. I struggled to remember the various details of my situation, and for a while, I remained convinced that I was still in the hold of the brig, near the box, and that Parker’s body was that of Tiger.
When I at length completely came to my senses, I found that the wind blew no more than a moderate breeze, and that the sea was comparatively calm; so much so that it only washed over the brig amidships. My left arm had broken loose from its lashings, and was much cut about the elbow; my right was entirely benumbed, and the hand and wrist swollen prodigiously by the pressure of the rope, which had worked from the shoulder downward. I was also in great pain from another rope which went about my waist, and had been drawn to an insufferable degree of tightness. Looking round upon my companions, I saw that Peters still lived, although a thick line was pulled so forcibly around his loins as to give him the appearance of being cut nearly in two; as I stirred, he made a feeble motion to me with his hand, pointing to the rope. Augustus gave no indication of life whatever, and was bent nearly double across a splinter of the windlass. Parker spoke to me when he saw me moving, and asked me if I had not sufficient strength to release him from his situation; saying, that if I would summon up what spirits I could, and contrive to untie him, we might yet save our lives; but that otherwise we must all perish. I told him to take courage, and I would endeavour to free him. Feeling in my pantaloons' pocket, I got hold of my penknife, and, after several ineffectual attempts, at length succeeded in opening it. I then, with my left hand, managed to free my right from its fastenings, and afterward cut the other ropes which held me. Upon attempting, however, to move from my position, I found that my legs failed me altogether, and that I could not get up; neither could I move my right arm in any direction. Upon mentioning this to Parker, he advised me to lie quiet for a few minutes, holding on to the windlass with my left hand, so as to allow time for the blood to circulate. Doing this, the numbness presently began to die away, so that I could move first one of my legs, and then the other; and, shortly afterward, I regained the partial use of my right arm. I now crawled with great caution towards Parker, without getting on my legs, and soon cut loose all the lashings about him, when, after a short delay, he also recovered the partial use of his limbs. We now lost no time in getting loose the rope from Peters. It had cut a deep gash through the waistband of his woollen pantaloons, and through two shirts, and made its way into his groin, from which the blood flowed out copiously as we removed the cordage. No sooner had we removed it, however, than he spoke, and seemed to experience instant relief—being able to move with much greater ease than either Parker or myself—this was no doubt owing to the discharge of blood.
When I finally came to my senses, I realized that the wind was just a light breeze and the sea was relatively calm; so calm that it only washed over the middle of the brig. My left arm had come loose from its bindings and was badly cut around the elbow; my right arm was completely numb, and my hand and wrist were massively swollen from the pressure of the rope that had slipped from my shoulder downwards. I was also in a lot of pain from another rope wrapped around my waist, which was drawn incredibly tight. Looking around at my companions, I saw that Peters was still alive, although a thick rope was tightly wrapped around his waist, making him look almost cut in half; when I stirred, he weakly motioned to me with his hand, pointing to the rope. Augustus showed no signs of life at all and was hunched nearly in half over a splinter of the windlass. Parker spoke to me when he saw me moving and asked if I had enough strength to get him free, saying that if I could muster the energy to untie him, we might still save our lives; otherwise, we would all die. I encouraged him to hang in there and said I would try to get him free. I felt in my pants pocket, found my penknife, and after several failed attempts, finally managed to open it. Then, with my left hand, I was able to free my right arm and cut the other ropes that bound me. However, when I tried to move, I found that my legs completely gave out and I couldn’t stand up; I also couldn’t move my right arm at all. When I told Parker, he advised me to lie still for a few minutes, holding onto the windlass with my left hand to give time for the blood to flow back. Doing this, the numbness started to fade, allowing me to move my legs one at a time, and soon I regained some use of my right arm. I cautiously crawled towards Parker without trying to stand, and soon cut all the bindings around him; after a brief moment, he too regained some use of his limbs. We didn't waste any time getting the rope off Peters. It had cut a deep gash through the waistband of his woollen pants and two shirts, cutting into his groin, from which blood poured out as we removed the rope. As soon as we took it off, he spoke and seemed to feel immediate relief—he was able to move much more easily than either Parker or me, likely due to the blood being released.
We had little hope that Augustus would recover, as he evinced no signs of life; but, upon getting to him, we discovered that he had merely swooned from loss of blood, the bandages we had placed around his wounded arm having been torn off by the water; none of the ropes which held him to the windlass were drawn sufficiently tight to occasion his death. Having relieved him from the fastenings, and got him clear of the broken wood about the windlass, we secured him in a dry place to windward, with his head somewhat lower than his body, and all three of us busied ourselves in chafing his limbs. In about half an hour he came to himself, although it was not until the next morning that he gave signs of recognising any of us, or had sufficient strength to speak. By the time we had thus got clear of our lashings it was quite dark, and it began to cloud up, so that we were again in the greatest agony lest it should come on to blow hard, in which event nothing could have saved us from perishing, exhausted as we were. By good fortune it continued very moderate during the night, the sea subsiding every minute, which gave us great hopes of ultimate preservation. A gentle breeze still blew from the N. W., but the weather was not at all cold. Augustus was lashed carefully to windward in such a manner as to prevent him from slipping overboard with the rolls of the vessel, as he was still too weak to hold on at all. For ourselves there was no such necessity. We sat close together, supporting each other with the aid of the broken ropes about the windlass, and devising methods of escape from our frightful situation. We derived much comfort from taking off our clothes and wringing the water from them. When we put them on after this, they felt remarkably warm and pleasant, and served to invigorate us in no little degree. We helped Augustus off with his, and wrung them for him, when he experienced the same comfort.
We didn't have much hope that Augustus would recover since he showed no signs of life, but when we got to him, we found out that he had only fainted from blood loss; the bandages we had wrapped around his injured arm had been torn off by the water. None of the ropes that held him to the windlass were tight enough to cause his death. After we freed him from the bindings and cleared him of the broken wood around the windlass, we secured him in a dry spot on the windward side, with his head slightly lower than his body, and the three of us worked on warming his limbs. About half an hour later, he regained consciousness, though it wasn't until the next morning that he showed any signs of recognizing us or had enough strength to speak. By the time we managed to free ourselves, it was completely dark, and the clouds started rolling in, making us worry that a storm might hit, which could have doomed us given how exhausted we were. Fortunately, the weather remained pretty calm throughout the night, and the sea began to calm down, which gave us a lot of hope for survival. A light breeze still came from the northwest, but it wasn't cold at all. We made sure Augustus was securely tied to the windward side so he wouldn't get swept overboard with the movement of the boat since he was still too weak to hold on. As for us, we didn’t have that concern. We huddled close together, supporting each other with the broken ropes around the windlass, and brainstormed ways to escape our terrifying situation. We found a lot of comfort in taking off our wet clothes and wringing them out. When we put them back on, they felt really warm and nice, which helped to energize us quite a bit. We also helped Augustus take off his clothes and wrung them out for him, and he felt the same comfort.
Our chief sufferings were now those of hunger and thirst, and, when we looked forward to the means of relief in this respect, our hearts sunk within us, and we were induced to regret that we had escaped the less dreadful perils of the sea. We endeavoured, however, to console ourselves with the hope of being speedily picked up by some vessel, and encouraged each other to bear with fortitude the evils that might happen.
Our main struggles now were hunger and thirst, and when we thought about how to find relief, our spirits fell, making us wish we had faced the less terrifying dangers of the sea. However, we tried to comfort ourselves with hope that we would be rescued soon by a passing ship, and we encouraged each other to endure the hardships we might face.
The morning of the fourteenth at length dawned, and the weather still continued clear and pleasant, with a steady but very light breeze from the N. W. The sea was now quite smooth, and as, from some cause which we could not determine, the brig did not lie so much along as she had done before, the deck was comparatively dry, and we could move about with freedom. We had now been better than three entire days and nights without either food or drink, and it became absolutely necessary that we should make an attempt to get up something from below. As the brig was completely full of water, we went to this work despondingly, and with but little expectation of being able to obtain anything. We made a kind of drag by driving some nails which we broke out from the remains of the companion-hatch into two pieces of wood. Tying these across each other, and fastening them to the end of a rope, we threw them into the cabin, and dragged them to and fro, in the faint hope of being thus able to entangle some article which might be of use to us for food, or which might at least render us assistance in getting it. We spent the greater part of the morning in this labour without effect, fishing up nothing more than a few bedclothes, which were readily caught by the nails. Indeed, our contrivance was so very clumsy, that any greater success was hardly to be anticipated.
The morning of the fourteenth finally arrived, and the weather remained clear and pleasant, with a gentle but steady breeze from the northwest. The sea was quite calm, and for some unknown reason, the brig wasn’t leaning as much as before, so the deck was relatively dry, allowing us to move around freely. We had now gone more than three full days and nights without food or drink, and it was absolutely necessary to try to retrieve something from below. Since the brig was completely filled with water, we approached this task with little hope of finding anything. We crafted a sort of drag by hammering some nails, which we had pried out from the remnants of the companion-hatch, into two pieces of wood. We tied these pieces together and attached them to the end of a rope, then tossed them into the cabin, dragging them back and forth in a faint hope of snagging something that could be useful for food or at least help us get it. We spent most of the morning on this effort without any luck, pulling up nothing but a few bedclothes, which got easily caught by the nails. In fact, our makeshift device was so awkward that any greater success seemed unlikely.
We now tried the forecastle, but equally in vain, and were upon the brink of despair, when Peters proposed that we should fasten a rope to his body, and let him make an attempt to get up something by diving into the cabin. This proposition we hailed with all the delight which reviving hope could inspire. He proceeded immediately to strip off his clothes with the exception of his pantaloons; and a strong rope was then carefully fastened around his middle, being brought up over his shoulders in such a manner that there was no possibility of its slipping. The undertaking was one of great difficulty and danger; for, as we could hardly expect to find much, if any provision in the cabin itself, it was necessary that the diver, after letting himself down, should make a turn to the right, and proceed under water a distance of ten or twelve feet, in a narrow passage, to the storeroom, and return, without drawing breath.
We now tried the forecastle, but it was just as fruitless, and we were on the verge of despair when Peters suggested that we attach a rope to his body and let him dive into the cabin to see if he could bring anything up. We welcomed this idea with all the excitement that a renewed sense of hope could bring. He immediately began to strip off his clothes, leaving only his pants on; then a strong rope was carefully secured around his waist, with it looped over his shoulders to prevent it from slipping. This task was extremely difficult and risky because, since we didn’t expect to find much, if any, supplies in the cabin itself, it was essential for the diver, after lowering himself down, to turn right and swim underwater a distance of ten to twelve feet through a narrow passage to the storeroom, and return without taking a breath.
Everything being ready, Peters now descended into the cabin, going down the companion-ladder until the water reached his chin. He then plunged in, head first, turning to the right as he plunged, and endeavouring to make his way to the storeroom. In this first attempt, however, he was altogether unsuccessful. In less than half a minute after his going down we felt the rope jerked violently (the signal we had agreed upon when he desired to be drawn up). We accordingly drew him up instantly, but so incautiously as to bruise him badly against the ladder. He had brought nothing with him, and had been unable to penetrate more than a very little way into the passage, owing to the constant exertions he found it necessary to make in order to keep himself from floating up against the deck. Upon getting out he was very much exhausted, and had to rest full fifteen minutes before he could again venture to descend.
Everything ready, Peters now went down into the cabin, using the companion ladder until the water reached his chin. He then dove in, head first, turning to the right as he submerged, trying to make his way to the storeroom. However, in this first attempt, he was completely unsuccessful. Less than half a minute after he went down, we felt the rope jerk violently (the signal we had agreed on for when he wanted to be pulled up). We quickly pulled him up, but carelessly bruised him badly against the ladder. He hadn’t brought anything with him and couldn’t get very far into the passage due to the constant effort it took to keep himself from floating up against the deck. Once he got out, he was extremely exhausted and needed to rest for a full fifteen minutes before he could try to go down again.
The second attempt met with even worse success; for he remained so long under water without giving the signal, that, becoming alarmed for his safety, we drew him out without it, and found that he was almost at the last gasp, having, as he said, repeatedly jerked at the rope without our feeling it. This was probably owing to a portion of it having become entangled in the balustrade at the foot of the ladder. This balustrade was, indeed, so much in the way, that we determined to remove it, if possible, before proceeding with our design. As we had no means of getting it away except by main force, we all descended into the water as far as we could on the ladder, and, giving a pull against it with our united strength, succeeded in breaking it down.
The second attempt was even less successful; he stayed underwater for so long without signaling that we got worried about his safety and pulled him out without his cue. When we got him out, we found he was almost out of breath, saying he had yanked on the rope multiple times without us noticing. This was likely because part of the rope had gotten tangled in the railing at the bottom of the ladder. That railing was so much in the way that we decided to remove it, if we could, before continuing with our plan. Since we had no way to get it out other than sheer force, we all climbed down into the water as far as we could on the ladder and, using our combined strength, managed to break it down.
The third attempt was equally unsuccessful with the two first, and it now became evident that nothing could be done in this manner without the aid of some weight with which the diver might steady himself, and keep to the floor of the cabin while making his search. For a long time we looked about in vain for something which might answer this purpose; but at length, to our great joy, we discovered one of the weather-forechains so loose that we had not the least difficulty in wrenching it off. Having fastened this securely to one of his ancles, Peters now made his fourth descent into the cabin, and this time succeeded in making his way to the door of the steward's room. To his inexpressible grief, however, he found it locked, and was obliged to return without effecting an entrance, as, with the greatest exertion, he could remain under water not more, at the utmost extent, than a single minute. Our affairs now looked gloomy indeed, and neither Augustus nor myself could refrain from bursting into tears, as we thought of the host of difficulties which encompassed us, and the slight probability which existed of our finally making an escape. But this weakness was not of long duration. Throwing ourselves on our knees to God, we implored his aid in the many dangers which beset us; and arose with renewed hope and vigour to think what could yet be done by mortal means towards accomplishing our deliverance.
The third attempt failed just like the first two, and it became clear that we couldn't do anything this way without some weight to help the diver steady himself and stay on the cabin floor while searching. We searched for a long time without success for something that might serve this purpose, but finally, to our great relief, we found one of the weather forechains loose enough that it was easy to pull off. After securing it to one of his ankles, Peters made his fourth descent into the cabin, and this time he managed to reach the door of the steward's room. To his immense disappointment, however, he found it locked and had to come back without managing to get in, as even with the greatest effort, he could only stay underwater for about a minute at most. Our situation looked very bleak, and neither Augustus nor I could hold back our tears as we thought about the many challenges we faced and how unlikely it was that we would escape. But this moment of weakness didn’t last long. We fell to our knees and prayed to God for help in the numerous dangers surrounding us, and we rose with renewed hope and energy to figure out what we could still do to find our way to safety.
CHAPTER X.
Shortly afterward an incident occurred which I am induced to look upon as more intensely productive of emotion, as far more replete with the extremes first of delight and then of horror, than even any of the thousand chances which afterward befell me in nine long years, crowded with events of the most startling, and, in many cases, of the most unconceived and unconceivable character. We were lying on the deck near the companion-way, and debating the possibility of yet making our way into the storeroom, when, looking towards Augustus, who lay fronting myself, I perceived that he had become all at once deadly pale, and that his lips were quivering in the most singular and unaccountable manner. Greatly alarmed, I spoke to him, but he made me no reply, and I was beginning to think that he was suddenly taken ill, when I took notice of his eyes, which were glaring apparently at some object behind me. I turned my head, and shall never forget the ecstatic joy which thrilled through every particle of my frame, when I perceived a large brig bearing down upon us, and not more than a couple of miles off. I sprung to my feet as if a musket bullet had suddenly struck me to the heart; and, stretching out my arms in the direction of the vessel, stood in this manner, motionless, and unable to articulate a syllable. Peters and Parker were equally affected, although in different ways. The former danced about the deck like a madman, uttering the most extravagant rhodomontades, intermingled with howls and imprecations, while the latter burst into tears, and continued for many minutes weeping like a child.
Shortly after that, something happened that I can't help but see as incredibly emotional—far more intense in its mix of joy and horror than any of the countless experiences I had over nine long years, filled with surprising and often unimaginable events. We were lying on the deck near the stairs, discussing whether we could still get into the storeroom, when I glanced at Augustus, who was facing me, and noticed he had suddenly turned very pale, and his lips were trembling in a strange, unexplainable way. Worried, I called out to him, but he didn't answer, and I started to think he was having a sudden health issue when I noticed his eyes were wide open, staring at something behind me. I turned my head, and I will never forget the ecstatic joy that rushed through me when I saw a large brig approaching us, only a couple of miles away. I jumped to my feet as if I had been shot in the heart, and with my arms outstretched toward the ship, I stood there, frozen, unable to say a word. Peters and Parker reacted too, though differently. Peters ran around the deck like a madman, shouting the wildest things mixed with howls and curses, while Parker broke down in tears, crying like a child for many minutes.
The vessel in sight was a large hermaphrodite brig, of a Dutch build, and painted black, with a tawdry gilt figurehead. She had evidently seen a good deal of rough weather, and, we supposed, had suffered much in the gale which had proved so disastrous to ourselves; for her foretopmast was gone, and some of her starboard bulwarks. When we first saw her, she was, as I have already said, about two miles off and to windward, bearing down upon us. The breeze was very gentle, and what astonished us chiefly was, that she had no other sails set than her foresail and mainsail, with a flying jib—of course she came down but slowly, and our impatience amounted nearly to phrensy. The awkward manner in which she steered, too, was remarked by all of us, even excited as we were. She yawed about so considerably, that once or twice we thought it impossible she could see us, or imagined that, having seen us, and discovered no person on board, she was about to tack and make off in another direction. Upon each of these occasions we screamed and shouted at the top of our voices, when the stranger would appear to change for a moment her intention, and again hold on towards us—this singular conduct being repeated two or three times, so that at last we could think of no other manner of accounting for it than by supposing the helmsman to be in liquor.
The ship in sight was a large hermaphrodite brig, built in the Dutch style and painted black, with a gaudy gold figurehead. She had obviously weathered some tough storms, and we guessed she had suffered a lot in the gale that had been so disastrous for us; her foretopmast was gone, and some of her starboard bulwarks were missing. When we first spotted her, as I mentioned before, she was about two miles away and upwind, heading toward us. The breeze was very light, and what surprised us most was that she only had her foresail and mainsail, along with a flying jib set—she was moving down toward us quite slowly, and our impatience was nearly driving us mad. The awkward way she steered was noticed by all of us, even in our excitement. She swerved around so much that a couple of times we thought she might not be able to see us, or we imagined that, having seen us and finding no one on board, she was going to change course and head off in another direction. Each time this happened, we screamed and shouted at the top of our lungs, and the stranger would seem to change her mind for a moment and continue toward us—this strange behavior happened two or three times, so in the end, we could only conclude that the helmsman was drunk.
No person was seen upon her decks until she arrived within about a quarter of a mile of us. We then saw three seamen, whom by their dress we took to be Hollanders. Two of these were lying on some old sails near the forecastle, and the third, who appeared to be looking at us with great curiosity, was leaning over the starboard bow near the bowsprit. This last was a stout and tall man, with a very dark skin. He seemed by his manner to be encouraging us to have patience, nodding to us in a cheerful although rather odd way, and smiling constantly so as to display a set of the most brilliantly white teeth. As his vessel drew nearer, we saw a red flannel cap which he had on fall from his head into the water; but of this he took little or no notice, continuing his odd smiles and gesticulations. I relate these things and circumstances minutely, and I relate them, it must be understood, precisely as they appeared to us.
No one was visible on her decks until she got within about a quarter of a mile from us. Then we spotted three sailors, who by their clothing seemed to be Dutch. Two of them were lying on some old sails near the front of the ship, and the third, who looked at us with a lot of curiosity, was leaning over the starboard bow near the bowsprit. This last guy was a tall, stocky man with very dark skin. He seemed to be trying to encourage us to be patient, nodding at us in a cheerful but somewhat strange way, and constantly smiling to show off a set of extremely white teeth. As his ship got closer, we saw a red flannel cap he was wearing fall off his head into the water, but he barely reacted, continuing his odd smiles and gestures. I mention these things and details carefully, and I share them as they appeared to us.
The brig came on slowly, and now more steadily than before, and—I cannot speak calmly of this event—our hearts leaped up wildly within us, and we poured out our whole souls in shouts and thanksgiving to God for the complete, unexpected, and glorious deliverance that was so palpably at hand. Of a sudden, and all at once, there came wafted over the ocean from the strange vessel (which was now close upon us) a smell, a stench, such as the whole world has no name for—no conception of—hellish—utterly suffocating—insufferable, inconceivable. I gasped for breath, and, turning to my companions, perceived that they were paler than marble. But we had now no time left for question or surmise—the brig was within fifty feet of us, and it seemed to be her intention to run under our counter, that we might board her without her putting out a boat. We rushed aft, when, suddenly, a wide yaw threw her off full five or six points from the course she had been running, and, as she passed under our stern at the distance of about twenty feet, we had a full view of her decks. Shall I ever forget the triple horror of that spectacle? Twenty-five or thirty human bodies, among whom were several females, lay scattered about between the counter and the galley, in the last and most loathsome state of putrefaction! We plainly saw that not a soul lived in that fated vessel! Yet we could not help shouting to the dead for help! Yes, long and loudly did we beg, in the agony of the moment, that those silent and disgusting images would stay for us, would not abandon us to become like them, would receive us among their goodly company! We were raving with horror and despair—thoroughly mad through the anguish of our grievous disappointment.
The ship approached slowly, and now more steadily than before, and—I can't describe this calmly—our hearts raced wildly within us, and we shouted our gratitude to God for the complete, unexpected, and glorious rescue that was so clearly at hand. Suddenly, carried over the ocean from the strange ship (which was now close to us) came a smell, a stench, for which the whole world has no name—no concept of—hellish—utterly suffocating—insufferable, unimaginable. I gasped for air, and turning to my companions, I saw that they were paler than marble. But we had no time left for questions or guessing—the ship was within fifty feet of us, and it seemed poised to glide under our stern so we could board without sending out a boat. We rushed to the back, when suddenly, a wide yaw threw her off by five or six points from her previous course, and as she passed under our stern at a distance of about twenty feet, we had a clear view of her decks. Shall I ever forget the triple horror of that sight? Twenty-five or thirty human bodies, among them several women, lay strewn between the stern and the galley, in the most putrid state possible! We clearly saw that no one lived on that doomed vessel! Yet we couldn't help shouting to the dead for help! Yes, we begged long and loudly, in our anguish, that those silent and repulsive figures would stay for us, would not leave us to become like them, would accept us into their grim company! We were raving with horror and despair—completely mad from the pain of our deep disappointment.
As our first loud yell of terror broke forth, it was replied to by something, from near the bowsprit of the stranger, so closely resembling the scream of a human voice that the nicest ear might have been startled and deceived. At this instant another sudden yaw brought the region of the forecastle for a moment into view, and we beheld at once the origin of the sound. We saw the tall stout figure still leaning on the bulwark, and still nodding his head to and fro, but his face was now turned from us so that we could not behold it. His arms were extended over the rail, and the palms of his hands fell outward. His knees were lodged upon a stout rope, tightly stretched, and reaching from the heel of the bowsprit to a cathead. On his back, from which a portion of the shirt had been torn, leaving it bare, there sat a huge seagull, busily gorging itself with the horrible flesh, its bill and talons deep buried, and its white plumage spattered all over with blood. As the brig moved further round so as to bring us close in view, the bird, with much apparent difficulty, drew out its crimsoned head, and, after eying us for a moment as if stupified, arose lazily from the body upon which it had been feasting, and, flying directly above our deck, hovered there a while with a portion of clotted and liver-like substance in its beak. The horrid morsel dropped at length with a sullen splash immediately at the feet of Parker. May God forgive me, but now, for the first time, there flashed through my mind a thought, a thought which I will not mention, and I felt myself making a step towards the ensanguined spot. I looked upward, and the eyes of Augustus met my own with a degree of intense and eager meaning which immediately brought me to my senses. I sprang forward quickly, and, with a deep shudder, threw the frightful thing into the sea.
As our first loud scream of terror erupted, it was answered by something from near the bowsprit of the strange ship that sounded so much like a human scream that the most discerning ear might have been startled and tricked. At that moment, another sudden turn brought the area of the forecastle into view, and we instantly saw the source of the sound. We spotted the tall, sturdy figure still leaning on the railing, still nodding its head back and forth, but its face was now turned away from us, so we couldn’t see it. Its arms were extended over the rail, palms facing outward. Its knees were resting on a strong rope, tightly stretched, running from the base of the bowsprit to a cathead. On its back, where part of the shirt had been torn, exposing bare skin, sat a huge seagull, greedily devouring the horrific flesh, its beak and talons buried deep, and its white feathers splattered with blood. As the brig moved further around to bring us into clear view, the bird, with considerable difficulty, pulled its bloodied head out, and after staring at us for a moment as if dazed, lazily lifted off the body it had been feasting on, and flew directly above our deck, hovering there for a moment with a piece of coagulated, liver-like mass in its beak. Ultimately, the disgusting morsel dropped with a dull splash right at Parker's feet. God forgive me, but for the first time, a thought crossed my mind, a thought I won’t mention, and I felt myself taking a step toward the bloody spot. I looked up, and Augustus's eyes met mine with a look of intense and eager meaning that instantly brought me back to reality. I quickly sprang forward and, with a deep shudder, threw the dreadful thing into the sea.
The body from which it had been taken, resting as it did upon the rope, had been easily swayed to and fro by the exertions of the carnivorous bird, and it was this motion which had at first impressed us with the belief of its being alive. As the gull relieved it of its weight, it swung round and fell partially over, so that the face was fully discovered. Never, surely, was any object so terribly full of awe! The eyes were gone, and the whole flesh around the mouth, leaving the teeth utterly naked. This, then, was the smile which had cheered us on to hope! this the—but I forbear. The brig, as I have already told, passed under our stern, and made its way slowly but steadily to leeward. With her and with her terrible crew went all our gay visions of deliverance and joy. Deliberately as she went by, we might possibly have found means of boarding her, had not our sudden disappointment, and the appalling nature of the discovery which accompanied it, laid entirely prostrate every active faculty of mind and body. We had seen and felt, but we could neither think nor act, until, alas, too late. How much our intellects had been weakened by this incident may be estimated by the fact, that, when the vessel had proceeded so far that we could perceive no more than the half of her hull, the proposition was seriously entertained of attempting to overtake her by swimming!
The body that had been hanging from the rope was easily swayed back and forth by the efforts of the hungry bird, and it was this movement that initially made us think it was still alive. As the gull took its weight away, it swung around and partially tipped over, fully revealing the face. Never before had we seen anything so terrifyingly eerie! The eyes were gone, and the flesh around the mouth was missing, leaving the teeth completely exposed. This was the smile that had given us hope! But I’ll stop there. The ship, as I’ve mentioned before, passed under our stern and slowly but steadily drifted away. With it and its terrifying crew went all our bright dreams of rescue and happiness. If it hadn’t been for our sudden despair and the shocking nature of the discovery, we might have found a way to board her as she went by, but instead, we were left completely drained of any mental or physical energy. We had seen and felt everything, but we couldn’t think or act until, regrettably, it was too late. The extent of how much this incident had weakened our minds is evident in the fact that, when the ship had moved far enough away that we could only see half of its hull, we seriously considered trying to swim after it!
I have, since this period, vainly endeavoured to obtain some clew to the hideous uncertainty which enveloped the fate of the stranger. Her build and general appearance, as I have before stated, led us to the belief that she was a Dutch trader, and the dresses of the crew also sustained this opinion. We might have easily seen the name upon her stern, and, indeed, taken other observations which would have guided us in making out her character; but the intense excitement of the moment blinded us to everything of that nature. From the saffron-like hue of such of the corpses as were not entirely decayed, we concluded that the whole of her company had perished by the yellow fever, or some other virulent disease of the same fearful kind. If such were the case (and I know not what else to imagine), death, to judge from the positions of the bodies, must have come upon them in a manner awfully sudden and overwhelming, in a way totally distinct from that which generally characterizes even the most deadly pestilences with which mankind are acquainted. It is possible, indeed, that poison, accidentally introduced into some of their sea-stores, may have brought about the disaster; or that the eating some unknown venomous species of fish, or other marine animal, or oceanic bird, might have induced it—but it is utterly useless to form conjectures where all is involved, and will, no doubt, remain for ever involved, in the most appalling and unfathomable mystery.
Since then, I've tried in vain to find any clue about the terrible uncertainty surrounding the fate of the stranger. Her shape and overall look, as I mentioned before, made us think she was a Dutch trader, and the crew's clothing supported this idea. We could have easily seen the name on her stern and taken other observations that would help us determine her identity, but the intense excitement of the moment blinded us to everything like that. From the yellowish color of the corpses that weren't completely decayed, we concluded that her entire crew must have died from yellow fever or some other deadly disease of a similar kind. If that's the case (and I can't think of anything else), death, judging by the positions of the bodies, must have struck them in a terrifyingly sudden and overwhelming way, totally different from what typically characterizes even the worst plagues known to humanity. It's possible, of course, that poison accidentally got into their supplies, causing the disaster; or that eating some unknown poisonous fish, marine animal, or ocean bird could have triggered it—but it's completely pointless to speculate when everything remains wrapped in the most horrifying and incomprehensible mystery.
CHAPTER XI.
We spent the remainder of the day in a condition of stupid lethargy, gazing after the retreating vessel until the darkness, hiding her from our sight, recalled us in some measure to our senses. The pangs of hunger and thirst then returned, absorbing all other cares and considerations. Nothing, however, could be done until the morning, and, securing ourselves as well as possible, we endeavoured to snatch a little repose. In this I succeeded beyond my expectation, sleeping until my companions, who had not been so fortunate, aroused me at daybreak to renew our attempts at getting up provision from the hull.
We spent the rest of the day feeling completely out of it, watching the ship disappear until the darkness obscured it from our view, bringing us back to reality a bit. Then the hunger and thirst hit us hard, making us forget about everything else. There was nothing we could do until morning, so we did our best to settle in and get some rest. I managed to sleep more than I expected, until my companions, who weren’t as lucky, woke me up at daybreak so we could try again to get supplies from the hull.
It was now a dead calm, with the sea as smooth as I have ever known it—the weather warm and pleasant. The brig was out of sight. We commenced our operations by wrenching off, with some trouble, another of the forechains; and having fastened both to Peters's feet, he again made an endeavour to reach the door of the storeroom, thinking it possible that he might be able to force it open, provided he could get at it in sufficient time; and this he hoped to do, as the hulk lay much more steadily than before.
It was completely calm now, with the sea as smooth as I had ever seen it—the weather warm and pleasant. The brig was out of sight. We started our work by struggling to remove another of the forechains; and after securing both to Peters's feet, he once again tried to reach the storeroom door, believing that he might be able to force it open if he got there in time; and he was hopeful of this since the hulk was lying much more steadily than before.
He succeeded very quickly in reaching the door, when, loosening one of the chains from his ankle, he made every exertion to force a passage with it, but in vain, the framework of the room being far stronger than was anticipated. He was quite exhausted with his long stay under water, and it became absolutely necessary that some other one of us should take his place. For this service Parker immediately volunteered; but, after making three ineffectual efforts, found that he could never even succeed in getting near the door. The condition of Augustus's wounded arm rendered it useless for him to attempt going down, as he would be unable to force the room open should he reach it, and it accordingly now devolved upon me to exert myself for our common deliverance.
He quickly reached the door, and after loosening one of the chains from his ankle, he tried to force a way through with it, but it was no use; the room's structure was much stronger than he expected. He was completely worn out after being underwater for so long, so it became crucial for one of us to take his place. Parker immediately volunteered for this task; however, after three unsuccessful attempts, he realized he couldn’t even get close to the door. Because of Augustus's injured arm, it wouldn’t be practical for him to go down, as he wouldn’t be able to pry the door open if he managed to get there. So, it fell to me to do my best for our shared escape.
Peters had left one of the chains in the passage, and I found, upon plunging in, that I had not sufficient ballast to keep me firmly down. I determined, therefore, to attempt no more, in my first effort, than merely to recover the other chain. In groping along the floor of the passage for this I felt a hard substance, which I immediately grasped, not having time to ascertain what it was, but returning and ascending instantly to the surface. The prize proved to be a bottle, and our joy may be conceived when I say that it was found to be full of Port wine. Giving thanks to God for this timely and cheering assistance, we immediately drew the cork with my penknife, and, each taking a moderate sup, felt the most indescribable comfort from the warmth, strength, and spirits with which it inspired us. We then carefully recorked the bottle, and, by means of a handkerchief, swung it in such a manner that there was no possibility of its getting broken.
Peters had left one of the chains in the passage, and when I dove in, I realized I didn’t have enough weight to keep me down. So, I decided to just try to get the other chain back on my first try. While feeling around on the floor of the passage for it, I felt something hard, which I grabbed without taking the time to see what it was, and quickly came back up to the surface. The treasure turned out to be a bottle, and our excitement was immense when we discovered it was full of Port wine. We thanked God for this timely boost and quickly pulled the cork with my penknife. Each of us took a small sip and felt an indescribable comfort from the warmth, strength, and uplift in spirits it gave us. We then carefully recorked the bottle and used a handkerchief to swing it safely to avoid breaking it.
Having rested a while after this fortunate discovery, I again descended, and now recovered the chain, with which I instantly came up. I then fastened it on and went down for the third time, when I became fully satisfied that no exertions whatever, in that situation, would enable me to force open the door of the storeroom. I therefore returned in despair.
After resting for a bit after this lucky find, I went back down and got the chain, which I quickly pulled up. I attached it and went down for the third time, when I realized that no amount of effort in that situation would let me open the storeroom door. So, I returned in despair.
There seemed now to be no longer any room for hope, and I could perceive in the countenances of my companions that they had made up their minds to perish. The wine had evidently produced in them a species of delirium, which, perhaps, I had been prevented from feeling by the immersion I had undergone since drinking it. They talked incoherently, and about matters unconnected with our condition, Peters repeatedly asking me questions about Nantucket. Augustus, too, I remember, approached me with a serious air, and requested me to lend him a pocket-comb, as his hair was full of fish scales, and he wished to get them out before going on shore. Parker appeared somewhat less affected, and urged me to dive at random into the cabin, and bring up any article which might come to hand. To this I consented, and, in the first attempt, after staying under a full minute, brought up a small leather trunk belonging to Captain Barnard. This was immediately opened in the faint hope that it might contain something to eat or drink. We found nothing, however, except a box of razors and two linen shirts. I now went down again, and returned without any success. As my head came above water I heard a crash on deck, and, upon getting up, saw that my companions had ungratefully taken advantage of my absence to drink the remainder of the wine, having let the bottle fall in the endeavour to replace it before I saw them. I remonstrated with them on the heartlessness of their conduct, when Augustus burst into tears. The other two endeavoured to laugh the matter off as a joke, but I hope never again to behold laughter of such a species: the distortion of countenance was absolutely frightful. Indeed, it was apparent that the stimulus, in the empty state of their stomachs, had taken instant and violent effect, and that they were all exceedingly intoxicated. With great difficulty I prevailed upon them to lie down, when they fell very soon into a heavy slumber, accompanied with loud stertorous breathing.
There seemed to be no room for hope anymore, and I could see from the faces of my companions that they had accepted their fate. The wine had clearly given them a sort of delirium, which I might have been spared from experiencing because of the immersion I had gone through since drinking it. They spoke incoherently about things unrelated to our situation, with Peters constantly asking me questions about Nantucket. I remember Augustus coming to me with a serious look, asking to borrow a pocket comb since his hair was full of fish scales, and he wanted to clean it up before going ashore. Parker appeared a bit less affected and urged me to dive randomly into the cabin and bring up anything I could find. I agreed, and on my first attempt, after staying underwater for a full minute, I retrieved a small leather trunk that belonged to Captain Barnard. We opened it right away in the faint hope of finding something to eat or drink, but all we found were a box of razors and two linen shirts. I went down again, but this time returned empty-handed. As I surfaced, I heard a crash on deck, and when I got up, I saw that my companions had ungratefully taken advantage of my absence to drink the rest of the wine, having dropped the bottle while trying to hide it from me. I scolded them for their heartless behavior, and Augustus broke down in tears. The other two tried to brush it off as a joke, but I hope to never again witness such laughter: the expressions on their faces were absolutely terrifying. It was clear that the wine, coupled with their empty stomachs, had taken immediate and severe effect, and they were all extremely drunk. With great effort, I managed to convince them to lie down, and they quickly fell into a deep sleep, marked by loud snoring.
I now found myself, as it were, alone in the brig, and my reflections, to be sure, were of the most fearful and gloomy nature. No prospect offered itself to my view but a lingering death by famine, or, at the best, by being overwhelmed in the first gale which should spring up, for in our present exhausted condition we could have no hope of living through another.
I found myself, in a way, alone in the brig, and my thoughts were, of course, extremely dark and troubling. The only future I could see was a slow death from starvation, or, at best, being crushed by the first storm that hit us, since in our current exhausted state, we had no chance of surviving another one.
The gnawing hunger which I now experienced was nearly insupportable, and I felt myself capable of going to any lengths in order to appease it. With my knife I cut off a small portion of the leather trunk, and endeavoured to eat it, but found it utterly impossible to swallow a single morsel, although I fancied that some little alleviation of my suffering was obtained by chewing small pieces of it and spitting them out. Towards night my companions awoke, one by one, each in an indescribable state of weakness and horror, brought on by the wine, whose fumes had now evaporated. They shook as if with a violent ague, and uttered the most lamentable cries for water. Their condition affected me in the most lively degree, at the same time causing me to rejoice in the fortunate train of circumstances which had prevented me from indulging in the wine, and consequently from sharing their melancholy and most distressing sensations. Their conduct, however, gave me great uneasiness and alarm; for it was evident that, unless some favourable change took place, they could afford me no assistance in providing for our common safety. I had not yet abandoned all idea of being able to get up something from below; but the attempt could not possibly be resumed until some one of them was sufficiently master of himself to aid me by holding the end of the rope while I went down. Parker appeared to be somewhat more in possession of his senses than the others, and I endeavoured, by every means in my power, to arouse him. Thinking that a plunge in the seawater might have a beneficial effect, I contrived to fasten the end of a rope around his body, and then, leading him to the companion-way (he remaining quite passive all the while), pushed him in, and immediately drew him out. I had good reason to congratulate myself upon having made this experiment; for he appeared much revived and invigorated, and, upon getting out, asked me, in a rational manner, why I had so served him. Having explained my object, he expressed himself indebted to me, and said that he felt greatly better from the immersion, afterward conversing sensibly upon our situation. We then resolved to treat Augustus and Peters in the same way, which we immediately did, when they both experienced much benefit from the shock. This idea of sudden immersion had been suggested to me by reading in some medical work the good effect of the shower-bath in a case where the patient was suffering from mania à potu.
The intense hunger I was feeling was almost unbearable, and I felt ready to do anything to satisfy it. With my knife, I cut a small piece from the leather trunk and tried to eat it, but it was impossible to swallow even a tiny bit. I thought that chewing small pieces and then spitting them out provided some relief from my suffering. As night fell, my companions began to wake up one by one, each in a horrible state of weakness and fear, brought on by the wine, which had now worn off. They shook as if they had a severe fever and cried out desperately for water. Their condition affected me deeply, but at the same time, I felt grateful that I had avoided the wine and didn’t have to share in their distressing feelings. However, their behavior filled me with concern and fear; it was clear that, unless something changed for the better, they wouldn’t be able to help me ensure our safety. I still held onto the hope of retrieving something from below, but I couldn’t try again until one of them was coherent enough to help me by holding the rope while I went down. Parker seemed to have a bit more clarity than the others, so I did everything I could to wake him up. Thinking that a splash in the seawater might help, I tied a rope around his body and, leading him to the companionway while he remained completely passive, pushed him in and swiftly pulled him out. I had every reason to feel pleased with this little experiment; he looked much more revitalized and, once out, asked me rationally why I had done that to him. After I explained my intent, he thanked me and said he felt much better from the immersion, then we talked sensibly about our situation. We decided to do the same for Augustus and Peters, which we immediately did, and both of them also benefited greatly from the shock. This idea of sudden immersion came to mind from reading in a medical text about the positive effects of the shower-bath for someone suffering from mania à potu.
Finding that I could now trust my companions to hold the end of the rope, I again made three or four plunges into the cabin, although it was now quite dark, and a gentle but long swell from the northward rendered the hulk somewhat unsteady. In the course of these attempts I succeeded in bringing up two case-knives, a three-gallon jug, empty, and a blanket, but nothing which could serve us for food. I continued my efforts, after getting these articles, until I was completely exhausted, but brought up nothing else. During the night Parker and Peters occupied themselves by turns in the same manner; but nothing coming to hand, we now gave up this attempt in despair, concluding that we were exhausting ourselves in vain.
Finding that I could now trust my friends to hold the end of the rope, I made three or four more dives into the cabin, even though it was pretty dark, and a gentle but long swell from the north made the hulk a bit shaky. During these attempts, I managed to retrieve two case-knives, an empty three-gallon jug, and a blanket, but nothing we could eat. I kept trying after getting these items until I was completely worn out, but I didn’t find anything else. Throughout the night, Parker and Peters took turns trying the same, but with nothing coming up, we eventually gave up in frustration, realizing we were just exhausting ourselves for no reason.
We passed the remainder of this night in a state of the most intense mental and bodily anguish that can possibly be imagined. The morning of the sixteenth at length dawned, and we looked eagerly around the horizon for relief, but to no purpose. The sea was still smooth, with only a long swell from the northward, as on yesterday. This was the sixth day since we had tasted either food or drink, with the exception of the bottle of Port wine, and it was clear that we could hold out but a very little while longer unless something could be obtained. I never saw before, nor wish to see again, human beings so utterly emaciated as Peters and Augustus. Had I met them on shore in their present condition I should not have had the slightest suspicion that I had ever beheld them. Their countenances were totally changed in character, so that I could not bring myself to believe them really the same individuals with whom I had been in company but a few days before. Parker, although sadly reduced, and so feeble that he could not raise his head from his bosom, was not so far gone as the other two. He suffered with great patience, making no complaint, and endeavouring to inspire us with hope in every manner he could devise. For myself, although at the commencement of the voyage I had been in bad health, and was at all times of a delicate constitution, I suffered less than any of us, being much less reduced in frame, and retaining my powers of mind in a surprising degree, while the rest were completely prostrated in intellect, and seemed to be brought to a species of second childhood, generally simpering in their expressions, with idiotic smiles, and uttering the most absurd platitudes. At intervals, however, they would appear to revive suddenly, as if inspired all at once with a consciousness of their condition, when they would spring upon their feet in a momentary flash of vigour, and speak, for a short period, of their prospects, in a manner altogether rational, although full of the most intense despair. It is possible, however, that my companions may have entertained the same opinion of their own condition as I did of mine, and that I may have unwittingly been guilty of the same extravagances and imbecilities as themselves—this is a matter which cannot be determined.
We spent the rest of the night in extreme mental and physical pain that you can hardly imagine. Finally, the morning of the sixteenth arrived, and we eagerly looked around the horizon for help, but it was no use. The sea was still calm, with only a long swell coming from the north, just like the day before. It had been six days since we had anything to eat or drink, except for that bottle of Port wine, and it was clear we couldn't last much longer unless we got something. I had never seen, nor do I want to see again, humans as terribly emaciated as Peters and Augustus. If I had encountered them on land in their current state, I wouldn't have recognized them at all. Their faces had changed so much that I could hardly believe they were the same people I had been with just a few days earlier. Parker, though badly weakened and too frail to lift his head from his chest, wasn't as far gone as the other two. He endured his suffering with remarkable patience, making no complaints and trying to encourage us in any way he could. As for me, even though I had started the voyage in poor health and was generally of delicate constitution, I suffered less than anyone else, being much less frail and surprisingly retaining my mental faculties, while the others were completely exhausted mentally and seemed to have regressed to a sort of second childhood, generally smiling inanely and making the most ridiculous statements. However, at times, they would suddenly seem to wake up, as if struck by a realization of their situation, jumping to their feet in a brief burst of energy, and speaking clearly for a short time about their prospects, though filled with intense despair. It’s possible that my companions thought of their condition the same way I thought of mine, and that I might have unknowingly shown similar absurdities and foolishness as they did—this is something that can’t be determined.
About noon Parker declared that he saw land off the larboard quarter, and it was with the utmost difficulty I could restrain him from plunging into the sea with the view of swimming towards it. Peters and Augustus took little notice of what he said, being apparently wrapped up in moody contemplation. Upon looking in the direction pointed out I could not perceive the faintest appearance of the shore—indeed, I was too well aware that we were far from any land to indulge in a hope of that nature. It was a long time, nevertheless, before I could convince Parker of his mistake. He then burst into a flood of tears, weeping like a child, with loud cries and sobs, for two or three hours, when, becoming exhausted, he fell asleep.
Around noon, Parker insisted he saw land off the left side, and it took a lot of effort to stop him from jumping into the sea to swim towards it. Peters and Augustus barely reacted to what he said, seeming lost in their own thoughts. When I looked in the direction he pointed, I couldn’t see even a hint of land—honestly, I knew we were too far from any shore to hope for that. Still, it took me a while to get Parker to understand he was mistaken. He then broke down in tears, crying like a child, with loud wails and sobs for two or three hours, until he was so worn out that he finally fell asleep.
Peters and Augustus now made several ineffectual efforts to swallow portions of the leather. I advised them to chew it and spit it out; but they were too excessively debilitated to be able to follow my advice. I continued to chew pieces of it at intervals, and found some relief from so doing; my chief distress was for water, and I was only prevented from taking a draught from the sea by remembering the horrible consequences which thus have resulted to others who were similarly situated with ourselves.
Peters and Augustus now made several unsuccessful attempts to swallow pieces of the leather. I suggested they chew it and spit it out, but they were too weak to follow my advice. I kept chewing on pieces at intervals and found some relief from it; my biggest struggle was with thirst, and I only stopped myself from taking a drink from the sea because I remembered the terrible outcomes that others in our situation had faced.
The day wore on in this manner, when I suddenly discovered a sail to the eastward, and on our larboard bow. She appeared to be a large ship, and was coming nearly athwart us, being probably twelve or fifteen miles distant. None of my companions had as yet discovered her, and I forbore to tell them of her for the present, lest we might again be disappointed of relief. At length, upon her getting nearer, I saw distinctly that she was heading immediately for us, with her light sails filled. I could now contain myself no longer, and pointed her out to my fellow-sufferers. They immediately sprang to their feet, again indulging in the most extravagant demonstrations of joy, weeping, laughing in an idiotic manner, jumping, stamping upon the deck, tearing their hair, and praying and cursing by turns. I was so affected by their conduct, as well as by what I now considered a sure prospect of deliverance, that I could not refrain from joining in with their madness, and gave way to the impulses of my gratitude and ecstasy by lying and rolling on the deck, clapping my hands, shouting, and other similar acts, until I was suddenly called to my recollection, and once more to the extreme of human misery and despair, by perceiving the ship all at once with her stern fully presented towards us, and steering in a direction nearly opposite to that in which I had at first perceived her.
The day went on like this when I suddenly spotted a sail to the east, off our left side. It looked like a large ship, coming almost straight at us, probably about twelve or fifteen miles away. None of my companions had noticed her yet, and I decided not to mention her to them just yet, in case we ended up disappointed again. As she got closer, I could clearly see that she was heading straight for us, her light sails puffed up. I couldn't hold back anymore and pointed her out to my fellow survivors. They immediately jumped to their feet, expressing their joy in the wildest ways—crying, laughing uncontrollably, jumping around, stomping on the deck, pulling out their hair, and switching between prayers and curses. I was so moved by their reaction, and by what I now believed was a certain chance of rescue, that I couldn’t help but join in their frenzy. I gave in to my gratitude and excitement, rolling on the deck, clapping my hands, shouting, and engaging in other similar actions, until I was suddenly jolted back to reality and the depths of despair when I saw the ship turn completely away from us, steering in a direction almost opposite to where I had first seen her.
It was some time before I could induce my poor companions to believe that this sad reverse in our prospects had actually taken place. They replied to all my assertions with a stare and a gesture implying that they were not to be deceived by such misrepresentations. The conduct of Augustus most sensibly affected me. In spite of all I could say or do to the contrary, he persisted in saying that the ship was rapidly nearing us, and in making preparations to go on board of her. Some seaweed floating by the brig, he maintained that it was the ship's boat, and endeavoured to throw himself upon it, howling and shrieking in the most heartrending manner, when I forcibly restrained him from thus casting himself into the sea.
It took a while before I could convince my poor companions that this unfortunate turn of events had actually happened. They responded to all my claims with a look and a gesture suggesting they wouldn’t be fooled by such falsehoods. Augustus's behavior affected me deeply. No matter what I said or did, he kept insisting that the ship was getting closer and started preparing to board it. When some seaweed floated by the brig, he insisted it was the ship's boat and tried to jump onto it, crying and screaming in the most heartbreaking way, until I had to physically stop him from throwing himself into the sea.
Having become in some degree pacified, we continued to watch the ship until we finally lost sight of her, the weather becoming hazy, with a light breeze springing up. As soon as she was entirely gone, Parker turned suddenly towards me with an expression of countenance which made me shudder. There was about him an air of self-possession which I had not noticed in him until now, and before he opened his lips my heart told me what he would say. He proposed, in a few words, that one of us should die to preserve the existence of the others.
Having calmed down a bit, we kept watching the ship until we eventually lost sight of her as the weather turned hazy and a light breeze picked up. Once she was completely gone, Parker suddenly turned to me with a look that made me shiver. There was a sense of composure about him that I hadn't noticed before, and before he spoke, I already knew what he was going to say. He briefly suggested that one of us should sacrifice themselves to ensure the survival of the others.
CHAPTER XII.
I had, for some time past, dwelt upon the prospect of our being reduced to this last horrible extremity, and had secretly made up my mind to suffer death in any shape or under any circumstances rather than resort to such a course. Nor was this resolution in any degree weakened by the present intensity of hunger under which I laboured. The proposition had not been heard by either Peters or Augustus. I therefore took Parker aside; and mentally praying to God for power to dissuade him from the horrible purpose he entertained, I expostulated with him for a long time and in the most supplicating manner, begging him in the name of everything which he held sacred, and urging him by every species of argument which the extremity of the case suggested, to abandon the idea, and not to mention it to either of the other two.
I had been thinking for a while about the possibility of being pushed to this terrible limit, and I had secretly decided that I would rather face death in any form or situation than go down that path. My resolve wasn’t weakened at all by the intense hunger I was feeling. Neither Peters nor Augustus had heard the proposal, so I took Parker aside. I prayed mentally to God for the strength to talk him out of the awful idea he had, and I pleaded with him for a long time in the most earnest way, asking him in the name of everything he valued and using every argument that seemed relevant to the desperate situation, to let go of that thought and not to bring it up to the other two.
He heard all I said without attempting to controvert any of my arguments, and I had begun to hope that he would be prevailed upon to do as I desired. But when I had ceased speaking, he said that he knew very well all I had said was true, and that to resort to such a course was the most horrible alternative which could enter into the mind of man; but that he had now held out as long as human nature could be sustained; that it was unnecessary for all to perish, when, by the death of one, it was possible, and even probable, that the rest might be finally preserved; adding that I might save myself the trouble of trying to turn him from his purpose, his mind having been thoroughly made up on the subject even before the appearance of the ship, and that only her heaving in sight had prevented him from mentioning his intention at an earlier period.
He listened to everything I said without trying to argue against any of my points, and I started to think that he might agree to what I wanted. But when I stopped speaking, he said that he knew everything I said was true and that going down that path was the worst option anyone could think of; however, he felt he had held out as long as anyone could. He believed it wasn't necessary for everyone to die when, by sacrificing one person, it was possible—and even likely—that the others could be saved. He added that I could save myself the effort of trying to change his mind since he had already made his decision before the ship even showed up, and it was only the sight of it that had stopped him from mentioning his plan sooner.
I now begged him, if he would not be prevailed upon to abandon his design, at least to defer it for another day, when some vessel might come to our relief; again reiterating every argument I could devise, and which I thought likely to have influence with one of his rough nature. He said, in reply, that he had not spoken until the very last possible moment; that he could exist no longer without sustenance of some kind; and that therefore in another day his suggestion would be too late, as regarded himself at least.
I now pleaded with him, if he wouldn’t reconsider abandoning his plan, at least to put it off for another day, hoping that some ship might come to our rescue. I repeated every argument I could think of that I thought might appeal to someone with his tough nature. He replied that he hadn’t spoken up until the very last possible moment; that he couldn’t go on any longer without some kind of food; and that, therefore, waiting another day would be too late for him, at least.
Finding that he was not to be moved by anything I could say in a mild tone, I now assumed a different demeanour, and told him that he must be aware I had suffered less than any of us from our calamities; that my health and strength, consequently, were at that moment far better than his own, or than that either of Peters or Augustus; in short, that I was in a condition to have my own way by force if I found it necessary; and that, if he attempted in any manner to acquaint the others with his bloody and cannibal designs, I would not hesitate to throw him into the sea. Upon this he immediately seized me by the throat, and drawing a knife, made several ineffectual efforts to stab me in the stomach; an atrocity which his excessive debility alone prevented him from accomplishing. In the mean time, being roused to a high pitch of anger, I forced him to the vessel's side, with the full intention of throwing him overboard. He was saved from this fate, however, by the interference of Peters, who now approached and separated us, asking the cause of the disturbance. This Parker told before I could find means in any manner to prevent him.
Finding that I couldn't sway him with a calm tone, I switched to a different attitude and told him he had to know that I had suffered less than any of us from our hardships; that my health and strength were, at that moment, much better than his or that of either Peters or Augustus; in short, that I was in a position to get my way by force if it came to that; and that if he tried to tell the others about his violent and cannibal plans, I wouldn't hesitate to toss him into the sea. At that, he immediately grabbed me by the throat and, pulling out a knife, made several unsuccessful attempts to stab me in the stomach—an act of brutality that his extreme weakness alone stopped him from carrying out. Meanwhile, fueled by anger, I pushed him toward the side of the ship, fully intending to throw him overboard. However, he was saved from this fate by Peters, who came over and separated us, asking what was going on. Parker explained it before I could think of a way to stop him.
The effect of his words was even more terrible than what I had anticipated. Both Augustus and Peters, who, it seems, had long secretly entertained the same fearful idea which Parker had been merely the first to broach, joined with him in his design, and insisted upon its being immediately carried into effect. I had calculated that one at least of the two former would be found still possessed of sufficient strength of mind to side with myself in resisting any attempt to execute so dreadful a purpose; and, with the aid of either one of them, I had no fear of being able to prevent its accomplishment. Being disappointed in this expectation, it became absolutely necessary that I should attend to my own safety, as a further resistance on my part might possibly be considered by men in their frightful condition a sufficient excuse for refusing me fair play in the tragedy that I knew would speedily be enacted.
The impact of his words was even worse than I had expected. Both Augustus and Peters, who apparently had secretly shared the same terrifying idea that Parker was the first to mention, joined him in his plan and insisted that it be carried out immediately. I thought at least one of the two would still have enough mental strength to side with me in stopping such a horrific act; with either of their help, I was confident I could prevent it from happening. Since I was let down by this expectation, I had to focus on my own safety, as any further resistance on my part might be seen by them in their alarming state as a valid reason to deny me fair treatment in the tragedy I knew was about to unfold.
I now told them I was willing to submit to the proposal, merely requesting a delay of about one hour, in order that the fog which had gathered around us might have an opportunity of lifting, when it was possible that the ship we had seen might be again in sight. After great difficulty I obtained from them a promise to wait thus long; and, as I had anticipated (a breeze rapidly coming in), the fog lifted before the hour had expired, when, no vessel appearing in sight, we prepared to draw lots.
I told them I was okay with the proposal, just asking for about an hour's delay so that the fog around us could clear up, which might give us a chance to see the ship we had spotted earlier. After some struggle, they promised to wait that long. Just as I expected (a breeze picked up quickly), the fog cleared up before the hour was up, but since no ship was in sight, we got ready to draw lots.
It is with extreme reluctance that I dwell upon the appalling scene which ensued; a scene which, with its minutest details, no after events have been able to efface in the slightest degree from my memory, and whose stern recollection will imbitter every future moment of my existence. Let me run over this portion of my narrative with as much haste as the nature of the events to be spoken of will permit. The only method we could devise for the terrific lottery, in which we were to take each a chance, was that of drawing straws. Small splinters of wood were made to answer our purpose, and it was agreed that I should be the holder. I retired to one end of the hulk, while my poor companions silently took up their station in the other with their backs turned towards me. The bitterest anxiety which I endured at any period of this fearful drama was while I occupied myself in the arrangement of the lots. There are few conditions into which man can possibly fall where he will not feel a deep interest in the preservation of his existence; an interest momentarily increasing with the frailness of the tenure by which that existence may be held. But now that the silent, definite, and stern nature of the business in which I was engaged (so different from the tumultuous dangers of the storm or the gradually approaching horrors of famine) allowed me to reflect on the few chances I had of escaping the most appalling of deaths—a death for the most appalling of purposes—every particle of that energy which had so long buoyed me up departed like feathers before the wind, leaving me a helpless prey to the most abject and pitiable terror. I could not, at first, even summon up sufficient strength to tear and fit together the small splinters of wood, my fingers absolutely refusing their office, and my knees knocking violently against each other. My mind ran over rapidly a thousand absurd projects by which to avoid becoming a partner in the awful speculation. I thought of falling on my knees to my companions, and entreating them to let me escape this necessity; of suddenly rushing upon them, and, by putting one of them to death, of rendering the decision by lot useless—in short, of everything but of going through with the matter I had in hand. At last, after wasting a long time in this imbecile conduct, I was recalled to my senses by the voice of Parker, who urged me to relieve them at once from the terrible anxiety they were enduring. Even then I could not bring myself to arrange the splinters upon the spot, but thought over every species of finesse by which I could trick some one of my fellow-sufferers to draw the short straw, as it had been agreed that whoever drew the shortest of four splinters from my hand was to die for the preservation of the rest. Before any one condemn me for this apparent heartlessness, let him be placed in a situation precisely similar to my own.
I really don’t want to revisit the horrific scene that followed; it's one that's etched in my memory, down to the tiniest details, and will darken every moment of my life from here on out. I’ll get through this part of my story as quickly as I can, given the nature of what I have to say. The only way we thought to handle this dreadful lottery, where each of us would take a chance, was by drawing straws. We used small pieces of wood for this purpose, and it was decided that I would be the one holding them. I moved to one end of the wreck, while my poor companions silently positioned themselves at the other end, facing away from me. The worst anxiety I felt during this terrifying ordeal was while I was sorting the lots. There are few situations in which a person doesn't feel a strong instinct to cling to life; that instinct only intensifies the more precarious your hold on it becomes. But now, as I engaged in this grim task—so different from the chaos of the storm or the looming horrors of hunger—I had to face the dismal reality of my slim chances of avoiding the most horrifying of deaths, a death meant for the worst of reasons. Every ounce of the energy that had kept me going vanished like feathers in the wind, leaving me completely vulnerable to sheer, pitiful terror. At first, I couldn’t even muster the strength to tear and arrange the small wooden pieces; my fingers just wouldn’t cooperate, and my knees were shaking violently. My mind raced through a thousand ridiculous ideas to escape being part of this horrific lottery. I considered dropping to my knees and begging my companions to let me out of this situation; I thought about suddenly attacking one of them, killing him, and making the lottery moot—in short, I thought of everything except actually doing what I was supposed to do. Eventually, after wasting what felt like an eternity on this foolishness, Parker's voice brought me back to reality, urging me to put an end to the terrible anxiety my friends were feeling. Even then, I couldn’t bring myself to arrange the pieces right away, instead thinking of every possible trick I could use to get one of my fellow sufferers to draw the short straw. It had been agreed that whoever picked the shortest of the four pieces from my hand would have to die for the sake of the others. Before anyone judges me for this apparent callousness, I’d invite them to try being in a situation exactly like mine.
At length delay was no longer possible, and, with a heart almost bursting from my bosom, I advanced to the region of the forecastle, where my companions were awaiting me. I held out my hand with the splinters, and Peters immediately drew. He was free—his, at least, was not the shortest; and there was now another chance against my escape. I summoned up all my strength, and passed the lots to Augustus. He also drew immediately, and he also was free; and now, whether I should live or die, the chances were no more than precisely even. At this moment all the fierceness of the tiger possessed my bosom, and I felt towards my poor fellow-creature, Parker, the most intense, the most diabolical hatred. But the feeling did not last; and, at length, with a convulsive shudder and closed eyes, I held out the two remaining splinters towards him. It was full five minutes before he could summon resolution to draw, during which period of heartrending suspense I never once opened my eyes. Presently one of the two lots was quickly drawn from my hand. The decision was then over, yet I knew not whether it was for me or against me. No one spoke, and still I dared not satisfy myself by looking at the splinter I held. Peters at length took me by the hand, and I forced myself to look up, when I immediately saw by the countenance of Parker that I was safe, and that he it was who had been doomed to suffer. Gasping for breath, I fell senseless to the deck.
Finally, I couldn't put it off any longer, and with my heart nearly bursting, I made my way to the forecastle where my friends were waiting for me. I held out my hand with the splinters, and Peters immediately drew. He was free—his lot, at least, wasn’t the shortest; now, there was another chance against my escape. I gathered all my strength and handed the lots to Augustus. He also drew right away, and he was free too; now, whether I would live or die, the odds were exactly even. At that moment, I felt a fierce rage inside me, and I developed a deep, almost evil hatred for my poor fellow-creature, Parker. But that feeling didn’t last; eventually, with a shudder and closed eyes, I offered the two remaining splinters to him. It took him a good five minutes to find the courage to draw, during which time I kept my eyes shut tight. Then, one of the lots was quickly taken from my hand. The decision was made, but I didn’t know if it was in my favor or not. No one said anything, and I still couldn’t bring myself to look at the splinter I held. Eventually, Peters took my hand, and I forced myself to look up, where I immediately saw from Parker's face that I was safe, and he was the one who had been chosen to suffer. Gasping for breath, I collapsed onto the deck.
I recovered from my swoon in time to behold the consummation of the tragedy in the death of him who had been chiefly instrumental in bringing it about. He made no resistance whatever, and was stabbed in the back by Peters, when he fell instantly dead. I must not dwell upon the fearful repast which immediately ensued. Such things may be imagined, but words have no power to impress the mind with the exquisite horror of their reality. Let it suffice to say that, having in some measure appeased the raging thirst which consumed us by the blood of the victim, and having by common consent taken off the hands, feet, and head, throwing them, together with the entrails, into the sea, we devoured the rest of the body, piecemeal, during the four ever memorable days of the seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth of the month.
I came back to reality just in time to see the tragic ending with the death of the person who was mainly responsible for it. He didn’t resist at all and was stabbed in the back by Peters, collapsing instantly. I won’t linger on the horrific feast that followed. Such events can be imagined, but words can't capture the sheer horror of their reality. It’s enough to say that, having somewhat satisfied our overwhelming thirst with the victim's blood, and by mutual agreement removing the hands, feet, and head, tossing them, along with the entrails, into the sea, we ate the rest of the body piece by piece during the unforgettable days of the seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth of the month.
On the nineteenth, there coming on a smart shower which lasted fifteen or twenty minutes, we contrived to catch some water by means of a sheet which had been fished up from the cabin by our drag just after the gale. The quantity we took in all did not amount to more than half a gallon; but even this scanty allowance supplied us with comparative strength and hope.
On the nineteenth, a strong rain shower came through that lasted about fifteen or twenty minutes. We managed to collect some water using a sheet we had retrieved from the cabin with our drag just after the storm. The total amount we collected was only about half a gallon, but even this small supply gave us a bit of strength and hope.
On the twenty-first we were again reduced to the last necessity. The weather still remained warm and pleasant, with occasional fogs and light breezes, most usually from N. to W.
On the twenty-first, we found ourselves once again in a desperate situation. The weather continued to be warm and pleasant, with occasional fog and light breezes, mostly blowing from the north to the west.
On the twenty-second, as we were sitting close huddled together, gloomily revolving over our lamentable condition, there flashed through my mind all at once an idea which inspired me with a bright gleam of hope. I remembered that, when the foremast had been cut away, Peters, being in the windward chains, passed one of the axes into my hand, requesting me to put it, if possible, in a place of security, and that a few minutes before the last heavy sea struck the brig and filled her I had taken this axe into the forecastle, and laid it in one of the larboard berths. I now thought it possible that, by getting at this axe, we might cut through the deck over the storeroom, and thus readily supply ourselves with provisions.
On the twenty-second, as we sat closely together, gloomily thinking about our unfortunate situation, a sudden idea flashed into my mind, filling me with a glimmer of hope. I remembered that when the foremast had been cut away, Peters, being in the windward chains, handed me one of the axes, asking me to keep it in a safe place if I could. Just a few minutes before the last heavy wave hit the brig and flooded it, I had taken that axe into the forecastle and stored it in one of the left-side berths. I now thought that if we could get to this axe, we might be able to cut through the deck over the storeroom and easily get ourselves some supplies.
When I communicated this project to my companions, they uttered a feeble shout of joy, and we all proceeded forthwith to the forecastle. The difficulty of descending here was greater than that of going down in the cabin, the opening being much smaller, for it will be remembered that the whole framework about the cabin companion-hatch had been carried away, whereas the forecastle-way, being a simple hatch of only about three feet square, had remained uninjured. I did not hesitate, however, to attempt the descent; and, a rope being fastened round my body as before, I plunged boldly in, feet foremost, made my way quickly to the berth, and, at the very first attempt, brought up the axe. It was hailed with the most ecstatic joy and triumph, and the ease with which it had been obtained was regarded as an omen of our ultimate preservation.
When I told my friends about this project, they let out a weak cheer, and we all immediately headed to the forecastle. It was harder to get down there than into the cabin since the opening was much smaller. Remember, the whole framework around the cabin hatch had been removed, while the forecastle hatch, which was just about three feet square, was still intact. However, I didn’t hesitate to give it a try; with a rope tied around my body like before, I jumped in feet first, quickly made my way to the bunk, and on my very first try, I pulled out the axe. It was greeted with wild joy and celebration, and the fact that it was so easily retrieved was seen as a sign that we would ultimately be saved.
We now commenced cutting at the deck with all the energy of rekindled hope, Peters and myself taking the axe by turns, Augustus's wounded arm not permitting him to aid us in any degree. As we were still so feeble as to be scarcely able to stand unsupported, and could consequently work but a minute or two without resting, it soon became evident that many long hours would be requisite to accomplish our task—that is, to cut an opening sufficiently large to admit of a free access to the storeroom. This consideration, however, did not discourage us; and, working all night by the light of the moon, we succeeded in effecting our purpose by daybreak on the morning of the twenty-third.
We started cutting at the deck with all the energy of renewed hope, with Peters and I taking turns with the axe, since Augustus's injured arm didn't allow him to help at all. Since we were still so weak that we could barely stand on our own, we could only work for a minute or two before needing a break. It quickly became clear that we would need many long hours to finish our task—that is, to cut an opening big enough to access the storeroom easily. However, this didn’t discourage us; and, working all night by the moonlight, we managed to achieve our goal by dawn on the morning of the twenty-third.
Peters now volunteered to go down; and, having made all arrangements as before, he descended, and soon returned, bringing up with him a small jar, which, to our great joy, proved to be full of olives. Having shared these among us, and devoured them with the greatest avidity, we proceeded to let him down again. This time he succeeded beyond our utmost expectations, returning instantly with a large ham and a bottle of Madeira wine. Of the latter we each took a moderate sup, having learned by experience the pernicious consequences of indulging too freely. The ham, except about two pounds near the bone, was not in a condition to be eaten, having been entirely spoiled by the salt water. The sound part was divided among us. Peters and Augustus, not being able to restrain their appetite, swallowed theirs upon the instant; but I was more cautious, and ate but a small portion of mine, dreading the thirst which I knew would ensue. We now rested a while from our labours, which had been intolerably severe.
Peters volunteered to go down again, and after getting everything ready like before, he went down and quickly came back with a small jar, which, to our delight, turned out to be full of olives. We shared them among us and devoured them eagerly before letting him down again. This time he surprised us even more, coming back right away with a large ham and a bottle of Madeira wine. We each had a moderate sip of the wine, having learned from experience that overindulging could have bad consequences. The ham, except for about two pounds near the bone, was not fit to eat as it had spoiled completely from the saltwater. We divided the good parts among us. Peters and Augustus couldn't hold back their hunger and ate theirs right away, but I was more cautious and only took a small piece, fearing the thirst that would follow. We took a break from our exhausting efforts after that.
By noon, feeling somewhat strengthened and refreshed, we again renewed our attempt at getting up provision, Peters and myself going down alternately, and always with more or less success, until sundown. During this interval we had the good fortune to bring up, altogether, four more small jars of olives, another ham, a carboy containing nearly three gallons of excellent Cape Madeira wine, and, what gave us still more delight, a small tortoise of the Gallipago breed, several of which had been taken on board by Captain Barnard, as the Grampus was leaving port, from the schooner Mary Pitts, just returned from a sealing voyage in the Pacific.
By noon, feeling a bit stronger and more refreshed, we tried again to gather supplies, with Peters and me going down alternately, and we had varying degrees of success until sunset. In that time, we were lucky enough to bring up a total of four more small jars of olives, another ham, a carboy filled with nearly three gallons of excellent Cape Madeira wine, and, what thrilled us even more, a small tortoise of the Gallipago breed. Several of these tortoises had been taken on board by Captain Barnard as the Grampus was leaving port from the schooner Mary Pitts, which had just returned from a sealing voyage in the Pacific.
In a subsequent portion of this narrative I shall have frequent occasion to mention this species of tortoise. It is found principally, as most of my readers may know, in the group of islands called the Gallipagos, which, indeed, derive their name from the animal—the Spanish word Gallipago meaning a fresh-water terapin. From the peculiarity of their shape and action they have been sometimes called the elephant tortoise. They are frequently found of an enormous size. I have myself seen several which would weigh from twelve to fifteen hundred pounds, although I do not remember that any navigator speaks of having seen them weighing more than eight hundred. Their appearance is singular, and even disgusting. Their steps are very slow, measured, and heavy, their bodies being carried about a foot from the ground. Their neck is long, and exceedingly slender; from eighteen inches to two feet is a very common length, and I killed one, where the distance from the shoulder to the extremity of the head was no less than three feet ten inches. The head has a striking resemblance to that of a serpent. They can exist without food for an almost incredible length of time, instances having been known where they have been thrown into the hold of a vessel and lain two years without nourishment of any kind—being as fat, and, in every respect, in as good order at the expiration of the time as when they were first put in. In one particular these extraordinary animals bear a resemblance to the dromedary, or camel of the desert. In a bag at the root of the neck they carry with them a constant supply of water. In some instances, upon killing them after a full year's deprivation of all nourishment, as much as three gallons of perfectly sweet and fresh water have been found in their bags. Their food is chiefly wild parsley and celery, with purslain, sea-kelp, and prickly pears, upon which latter vegetable they thrive wonderfully, a great quantity of it being usually found on the hillsides near the shore wherever the animal itself is discovered. They are excellent and highly nutritious food, and have, no doubt, been the means of preserving the lives of thousands of seamen employed in the whale-fishery and other pursuits in the Pacific.
In a later part of this story, I'll often refer to this type of tortoise. It's mainly found, as many of you might know, in the group of islands called the Galapagos, which actually got their name from the animal—the Spanish word "gallipago" means a freshwater turtle. Because of their unique shape and movement, they've sometimes been called the elephant tortoise. They're often found to be huge. I've personally seen several that weighed between twelve and fifteen hundred pounds, although I don't recall any sailor claiming to have seen one heavier than eight hundred. Their appearance is unusual, and even off-putting. Their movements are very slow, deliberate, and heavy, as their bodies are held about a foot off the ground. Their necks are long and extremely thin; a common length is between eighteen inches and two feet, and I once killed one that had a shoulder-to-head length of three feet ten inches. The head looks a lot like a serpent's. They can survive without food for an astonishingly long time; there are records of them being kept in a ship's hold for two years without any nourishment and being just as fat and healthy afterward as when they were first put in. In one way, these remarkable creatures are similar to the dromedary or camel of the desert. At the base of their neck, they have a pouch that carries a constant supply of water. In some cases, when they've been killed after a whole year without food, up to three gallons of perfectly sweet and fresh water have been found in their pouches. Their diet mainly consists of wild parsley and celery, along with purslane, sea kelp, and prickly pears, the latter of which they thrive on, as a lot of it is typically found on the hillsides near the shore wherever these tortoises are found. They are incredibly nutritious and have likely saved the lives of thousands of sailors involved in the whaling industry and other activities in the Pacific.
The one which we had the good fortune to bring up from the storeroom was not of a large size, weighing probably sixty-five or seventy pounds. It was a female, and in excellent condition, being exceedingly fat, and having more than a quart of limpid and sweet water in its bag. This was indeed a treasure; and, falling on our knees with one accord, we returned fervent thanks to God for so seasonable a relief.
The one we were lucky enough to pull from the storeroom wasn't very big, probably weighing around sixty-five or seventy pounds. It was a female and in great shape, quite plump, and had more than a quart of clear, sweet water in its bag. This was truly a treasure; and, kneeling together, we gave heartfelt thanks to God for such timely help.
We had great difficulty in getting the animal up through the opening, as its struggles were fierce and its strength prodigious. It was upon the point of making its escape from Peters's grasp, and slipping back into the water, when Augustus, throwing a rope with a slip-knot around its throat, held it up in this manner until I jumped into the hole by the side of Peters, and assisted him in lifting it out.
We had a hard time getting the animal through the opening, as it was struggling hard and was incredibly strong. It was about to break free from Peters's hold and slip back into the water when Augustus tossed a rope with a slipknot around its neck and held it up like that until I jumped into the hole next to Peters and helped him lift it out.
The water we drew carefully from the bag into the jug, which, it will be remembered, had been brought up before from the cabin. Having done this, we broke off the neck of a bottle so as to form, with the cork, a kind of glass, holding not quite half a gill. We then each drank one of these measures full, and resolved to limit ourselves to this quantity per day as long as it should hold out.
The water we carefully poured from the bag into the jug, which you might remember had been brought up from the cabin earlier. After that, we broke the neck off a bottle to create a makeshift glass with the cork, holding just under half a gill. We then each drank one of these portions and decided to stick to this amount per day as long as it lasted.
During the last two or three days, the weather having been dry and pleasant, the bedding we had obtained from the cabin, as well as our clothing, had become thoroughly dry, so that we passed this night (that of the twenty-third) in comparative comfort, enjoying a tranquil repose, after having supped plentifully on olives and ham, with a small allowance of the wine. Being afraid of losing some of our stores overboard during the night, in the event of a breeze springing up, we secured them as well as possible with cordage to the fragments of the windlass. Our tortoise, which we were anxious to preserve alive as long as we could, we threw on his back, and otherwise carefully fastened.
Over the last couple of days, since the weather has been dry and nice, the bedding we got from the cabin and our clothes were completely dry. So we spent that night (the twenty-third) with some comfort, enjoying a peaceful rest after having a good dinner of olives, ham, and a little bit of wine. To avoid losing any of our supplies overboard during the night if the wind picked up, we tied them down as securely as possible with ropes to the pieces of the windlass. To keep our tortoise alive as long as we could, we flipped him onto his back and secured him carefully.
CHAPTER XIII.
July 24. This morning saw us wonderfully recruited in spirits and strength. Notwithstanding the perilous situation in which we were still placed, ignorant of our position, although certainly at a great distance from land, without more food than would last us for a fortnight even with great care, almost entirely without water, and floating about at the mercy of every wind and wave, on the merest wreck in the world, still the infinitely more terrible distresses and dangers from which we had so lately and so providentially been delivered caused us to regard what we now endured as but little more than an ordinary evil—so strictly comparative is either good or ill.
July 24. This morning, we felt surprisingly uplifted in both spirit and strength. Despite the dangerous situation we were still in, being unaware of our exact location and certainly far from land, with only enough food to last us for two weeks, even with careful rationing, almost entirely out of water, and drifting at the mercy of every wind and wave on a near-total wreck, the infinitely worse distress and danger we had recently and miraculously escaped made us view our current struggles as just a minor inconvenience—so relative is the nature of suffering and relief.
At sunrise we were preparing to renew our attempts at getting up something from the storeroom, when, a smart shower coming on, with some lightning, we turned our attention to the catching of water by means of the sheet we had used before for this purpose. We had no other means of collecting the rain than by holding the sheet spread out with one of the forechain-plates in the middle of it. The water, thus conducted to the centre, was drained through into our jug. We had nearly filled it in this manner, when, a heavy squall coming on from the northward, obliged us to desist, as the hulk began once more to roll so violently that we could no longer keep our feet. We now went forward, and, lashing ourselves securely to the remnant of the windlass as before, awaited the event with far more calmness than could have been anticipated, or would have been imagined possible under the circumstances. At noon the wind had freshened into a two-reef breeze, and by night into a stiff gale, accompanied with a tremendously heavy swell. Experience having taught us, however, the best method of arranging our lashings, we weathered this dreary night in tolerable security, although thoroughly drenched at almost every instant by the sea, and in momentary dread of being washed off. Fortunately, the weather was so warm as to render the water rather grateful than otherwise.
At sunrise, we were getting ready to try again to retrieve something from the storeroom when a heavy rain shower started, along with some lightning. We shifted our focus to collecting water using the sheet we had used for this before. Our only way to gather the rain was by holding the sheet spread out with one of the forechain-plates in the middle. The water collected in the center and drained into our jug. We had almost filled it when a strong squall blew in from the north, forcing us to stop since the hulk began to roll so violently that we could no longer stay on our feet. We moved forward and secured ourselves to the remains of the windlass as before, waiting for what would happen next with more calmness than anyone could have expected under the circumstances. By noon, the wind had picked up to a two-reef breeze, and by night, it had turned into a strong gale with a heavy swell. However, experience had taught us the best way to secure ourselves, so we managed to get through that rough night in relatively good condition, even though we were soaked almost all the time by the sea and constantly worried about being swept away. Luckily, the weather was warm enough that the water felt more refreshing than unpleasant.
July 25. This morning the gale had diminished to a mere ten-knot breeze, and the sea had gone down with it so considerably that we were able to keep ourselves dry upon the deck. To our great grief, however, we found that two jars of our olives, as well as the whole of our ham, had been washed overboard, in spite of the careful manner in which they had been fastened. We determined not to kill the tortoise as yet, and contented ourselves for the present with a breakfast on a few of the olives, and a measure of water each, which latter we mixed, half and half, with wine, finding great relief and strength from the mixture, without the distressing intoxication which had ensued upon drinking the Port. The sea was still far too rough for the renewal of our efforts at getting up provision from the storeroom. Several articles, of no importance to us in our present situation, floated up through the opening during the day, and were immediately washed overboard. We also now observed that the hulk lay more along than ever, so that we could not stand an instant without lashing ourselves. On this account we passed a gloomy and uncomfortable day. At noon the sun appeared to be nearly vertical, and we had no doubt that we had been driven down by the long succession of northward and northwesterly winds into the near vicinity of the equator. Towards evening saw several sharks, and were somewhat alarmed by the audacious manner in which an enormously large one approached us. At one time, a lurch throwing the deck very far beneath the water, the monster actually swam in upon us, floundering for some moments just over the companion-hatch, and striking Peters violently with his tail. A heavy sea at length hurled him overboard, much to our relief. In moderate weather we might have easily captured him.
July 25. This morning, the strong wind had calmed to just a ten-knot breeze, and the sea had settled enough that we could stay dry on the deck. However, to our great sadness, we found that two jars of our olives and all of our ham had been washed overboard, even though we had secured them carefully. We decided not to kill the tortoise yet and made do with a breakfast of a few olives and a measure of water each, which we mixed half and half with wine. This blend provided us with relief and strength without the uncomfortable intoxication that had followed drinking the Port. The sea was still too rough for us to try again to get provisions from the storeroom. Several items that didn’t matter much to us in our situation floated up through the opening during the day, only to be washed away immediately. We also noticed that the hulk was leaning more than ever, making it impossible for us to stand without securing ourselves. Because of this, we spent a gloomy and uncomfortable day. At noon, the sun seemed almost directly overhead, and we had no doubt that the series of north and northwest winds had pushed us close to the equator. Towards evening, we spotted several sharks and were somewhat alarmed by the boldness of a particularly large one that came close to us. At one point, a sudden lurch caused the deck to dip into the water, and the giant actually swam right up to us, struggling for a moment just over the companion-hatch and hitting Peters hard with its tail. Finally, a strong wave tossed the shark back overboard, which was a huge relief for us. In calmer weather, we could have easily caught it.
July 26. This morning, the wind having greatly abated, and the sea not being very rough, we determined to renew our exertions in the storeroom. After a great deal of hard labour during the whole day, we found that nothing further was to be expected from this quarter, the partitions of the room having been stove during the night, and its contents swept into the hold. This discovery, as may be supposed, filled us with despair.
July 26. This morning, with the wind dying down a lot and the sea being relatively calm, we decided to get back to work in the storeroom. After a long day of hard work, we realized that we couldn't find anything else in there; the dividers in the room had been damaged during the night, and everything inside had been pushed into the hold. This discovery, as you can imagine, left us feeling hopeless.
July 27. The sea nearly smooth, with a light wind, and still from the northward and westward. The sun coming out hotly in the afternoon, we occupied ourselves in drying our clothes. Found great relief from thirst, and much comfort otherwise, by bathing in the sea; in this, however, we were forced to use great caution, being afraid of sharks, several of which were seen swimming around the brig during the day.
July 27. The sea was almost calm, with a light breeze coming from the north and west. The sun beat down fiercely in the afternoon, so we focused on drying our clothes. We found great relief from our thirst and felt much better overall after swimming in the sea; however, we had to be very careful, as we were worried about sharks, several of which were spotted swimming near the brig throughout the day.
July 28. Good weather still. The brig now began to lie along so alarmingly that we feared she would eventually roll bottom up. Prepared ourselves as well as we could for this emergency, lashing our tortoise, water-jug, and two remaining jars of olives as far as possible over to the windward, placing them outside the hull, below the main-chains. The sea very smooth all day, with little or no wind.
July 28. The weather is still nice. The ship began to tilt so dangerously that we were afraid it would end up capsizing. We did our best to prepare for this situation by securing our turtle, water jug, and the last two jars of olives as much as we could against the wind, placing them outside the hull, below the main chains. The sea was very calm all day, with little to no wind.
July 29. A continuance of the same weather. Augustus's wounded arm began to evince symptoms of mortification. He complained of drowsiness and excessive thirst, but no acute pain. Nothing could be done for his relief beyond rubbing his wounds with a little of the vinegar from the olives, and from this no benefit seemed to be experienced. We did everything in our power for his comfort, and trebled his allowance of water.
July 29. The weather stayed the same. Augustus's injured arm started showing signs of decay. He felt sleepy and really thirsty, but not in a lot of pain. There wasn't much we could do to help him besides rubbing his wounds with a bit of vinegar from the olives, and that didn’t seem to help at all. We did everything we could to make him comfortable and tripled his water supply.
July 30. An excessively hot day, with no wind. An enormous shark kept close by the hulk during the whole of the forenoon. We made several unsuccessful attempts to capture him by means of a noose. Augustus much worse, and evidently sinking as much from want of proper nourishment as from the effect of his wounds. He constantly prayed to be released from his sufferings, wishing for nothing but death. This evening we ate the last of our olives, and found the water in our jug so putrid that we could not swallow it at all without the addition of wine. Determined to kill our tortoise in the morning.
July 30. It was an extremely hot day, with no breeze. A huge shark stayed near the wreck all morning. We made several unsuccessful attempts to catch it with a noose. Augustus was in much worse condition, clearly deteriorating from lack of proper nutrition as well as from his injuries. He kept begging to be freed from his pain, wishing only for death. This evening, we finished the last of our olives and discovered that the water in our jug was so disgusting that we could barely drink it without adding wine. We decided to kill our tortoise in the morning.
July 31. After a night of excessive anxiety and fatigue, owing to the position of the hulk, we set about killing and cutting up our tortoise. He proved to be much smaller than we had supposed, although in good condition—the whole meat about him not amounting to more than ten pounds. With a view of preserving a portion of this as long as possible, we cut it into fine pieces, and filled with them our three remaining olive-jars and the wine-bottle (all of which had been kept), pouring in afterward the vinegar from the olives. In this manner we put away about three pounds of the tortoise, intending not to touch it until we had consumed the rest. We concluded to restrict ourselves to about four ounces of the meat per day; the whole would thus last us thirteen days. A brisk shower, with severe thunder and lightning, came on about dusk, but lasted so short a time that we only succeeded in catching about half a pint of water. The whole of this, by common consent, was given to Augustus, who now appeared to be in the last extremity. He drank the water from the sheet as we caught it (we holding it above him as he lay so as to let it run into his mouth), for we had now nothing left capable of holding water, unless we had chosen to empty out our wine from the carboy, or the stale water from the jug. Either of these expedients would have been resorted to had the shower lasted.
July 31. After a night filled with worry and exhaustion because of the position of the hulk, we got to work on killing and cutting up our tortoise. It turned out to be much smaller than we had expected, though it was in good shape—there was only about ten pounds of meat. To preserve some of it for as long as possible, we cut it into small pieces and filled our three remaining olive jars and the wine bottle (which we had kept), pouring in the vinegar from the olives afterward. In this way, we stored about three pounds of tortoise meat, planning not to touch it until we finished the rest. We decided to limit ourselves to about four ounces of meat each day, which would make it last us thirteen days. A heavy rainstorm with strong thunder and lightning hit around dusk, but it was so brief that we only managed to collect about half a pint of water. By mutual agreement, we gave all of it to Augustus, who now seemed to be on the brink of collapse. He drank the water from the sheet as we caught it (we held it over him while he lay down to let it flow into his mouth), since we had nothing left that could hold water, unless we emptied our wine from the carboy or the stale water from the jug. We would have done that if the rain had lasted longer.
The sufferer seemed to derive but little benefit from the draught. His arm was completely black from the wrist to the shoulder, and his feet were like ice. We expected every moment to see him breathe his last. He was frightfully emaciated; so much so that, although he weighed a hundred and twenty-seven pounds upon his leaving Nantucket, he now did not weigh more than forty or fifty at the farthest. His eyes were sunk far in his head, being scarcely perceptible, and the skin of his cheeks hung so loosely as to prevent his masticating any food, or even swallowing any liquid, without great difficulty.
The patient seemed to get very little relief from the drink. His arm was completely black from the wrist to the shoulder, and his feet were icy cold. We expected him to take his last breath at any moment. He was terrifyingly thin; so much so that, although he weighed one hundred twenty-seven pounds when he left Nantucket, he now weighed no more than forty or fifty at most. His eyes were sunken deep into his head, barely visible, and the skin on his cheeks hung so loosely that it made it very hard for him to chew any food or even swallow liquids without a lot of trouble.
August 1. A continuance of the same calm weather, with an oppressively hot sun. Suffered exceedingly from thirst, the water in the jug being absolutely putrid and swarming with vermin. We contrived, nevertheless, to swallow a portion of it by mixing it with wine—our thirst, however, was but little abated. We found more relief by bathing in the sea, but could not avail ourselves of this expedient except at long intervals, on account of the continual presence of sharks. We now saw clearly that Augustus could not be saved; that he was evidently dying. We could do nothing to relieve his sufferings, which appeared to be great. About twelve o'clock he expired in strong convulsions, and without having spoken for several hours. His death filled us with the most gloomy forebodings, and had so great an effect upon our spirits that we sat motionless by the corpse during the whole day, and never addressed each other except in a whisper. It was not until some time after dark that we took courage to get up and throw the body overboard. It was then loathsome beyond expression, and so far decayed that, as Peters attempted to lift it, an entire leg came off in his grasp. As the mass of putrefaction slipped over the vessel's side into the water, the glare of phosphoric light with which it was surrounded plainly discovered to us seven or eight large sharks, the clashing of whose horrible teeth, as their prey was torn to pieces among them, might have been heard at the distance of a mile. We shrunk within ourselves in the extremity of horror at the sound.
August 1. The calm weather continued, but the sun was oppressively hot. We suffered greatly from thirst; the water in the jug was foul and crawling with bugs. Still, we managed to drink some of it by mixing it with wine, but it barely quenched our thirst. We found some relief by cooling off in the sea, but we could only do this at long intervals because of the constant presence of sharks. It became clear that Augustus couldn’t be saved; he was clearly dying. We couldn’t do anything to ease his pain, which seemed to be intense. Around noon, he passed away in violent convulsions, having not spoken for several hours. His death filled us with deep dread and affected our mood so much that we sat silently by his body all day, only speaking to each other in whispers. It wasn’t until long after dark that we mustered the courage to rise and throw the body overboard. By then, it was beyond repulsive and so decayed that when Peters tried to lift it, an entire leg came off in his hands. As the decaying mass slipped over the side of the ship into the water, the glow of phosphoric light around it revealed seven or eight large sharks. The sound of their teeth clashing as they tore their prey apart echoed from a mile away. We recoiled in horror at the noise.
August 2. The same fearfully calm and hot weather. The dawn found us in a state of pitiable dejection as well as bodily exhaustion. The water in the jug was now absolutely useless, being a thick gelatinous mass; nothing but frightful-looking worms mingled with slime. We threw it out, and washed the jug well in the sea, afterward pouring a little vinegar in it from our bottles of pickled tortoise. Our thirst could now scarcely be endured, and we tried in vain to relieve it by wine, which seemed only to add fuel to the flame, and excited us to a high degree of intoxication. We afterward endeavoured to relieve our sufferings by mixing the wine with seawater; but this instantly brought about the most violent retchings, so that we never again attempted it. During the whole day we anxiously sought an opportunity of bathing, but to no purpose; for the hulk was now entirely besieged on all sides with sharks—no doubt the identical monsters who had devoured our poor companion on the evening before, and who were in momentary expectation of another similar feast. This circumstance occasioned us the most bitter regret, and filled us with the most depressing and melancholy forebodings. We had experienced indescribable relief in bathing, and to have this resource cut off in so frightful a manner was more than we could bear. Nor, indeed, were we altogether free from the apprehension of immediate danger, for the least slip or false movement would have thrown us at once within reach of these voracious fish, who frequently thrust themselves directly upon us, swimming up to leeward. No shouts or exertions on our part seemed to alarm them. Even when one of the largest was struck with an axe by Peters, and much wounded, he persisted in his attempts to push in where we were. A cloud came up at dusk, but, to our extreme anguish, passed over without discharging itself. It is quite impossible to conceive our sufferings from thirst at this period. We passed a sleepless night, both on this account and through dread of the sharks.
August 2. The same oppressively calm and hot weather continued. Dawn found us in a state of deep despair and physical exhaustion. The water in the jug was completely useless, turned into a thick gelatinous mass; all that swirled inside were terrifying-looking worms mixed with slime. We dumped it out and cleaned the jug thoroughly in the sea, later pouring some vinegar in it from our bottles of pickled tortoise. Our thirst was nearly unbearable, and we tried to ease it with wine, which only seemed to make things worse and pushed us into a high state of intoxication. We then tried mixing the wine with seawater to relieve our suffering, but that caused violent retching, so we never attempted it again. Throughout the day, we anxiously searched for a chance to bathe, but it was futile; the hulk was completely surrounded by sharks—most likely the same creatures that had eaten our poor companion the evening before, and they were anticipating another meal. This situation filled us with bitter regret and deep, gloomy foreboding. We had found indescribable relief in bathing, and having that taken away in such a horrifying manner was more than we could handle. Moreover, we were not free from the fear of immediate danger; any slip or wrong move could bring us within reach of these ravenous fish, which often swam right up beside us. Our shouts and efforts to scare them off had no effect. Even when Peters struck one of the largest with an axe and severely wounded it, the shark kept trying to push into where we were. A cloud rolled in at dusk, but to our extreme anguish, it passed over without raining. It’s impossible to describe our suffering from thirst during this time. We spent a sleepless night, haunted by both our thirst and the fear of sharks.
August 3. No prospect of relief, and the brig lying still more and more along, so that now we could not maintain a footing upon deck at all. Busied ourselves in securing our wine and tortoise-meat, so that we might not lose them in the event of our rolling over. Got out two stout spikes from the forechains, and, by means of the axe, drove them into the hull to windward within a couple of feet of the water; this not being very far from the keel, as we were nearly upon our beam-ends. To these spikes we now lashed our provisions, as being more secure than their former position beneath the chains. Suffered great agony from thirst during the whole day—no chance of bathing on account of the sharks, which never left us for a moment. Found it impossible to sleep.
August 3. There was no hope of relief, and the ship was listing more and more, making it impossible for us to stand on deck. We kept busy securing our wine and tortoise meat so we wouldn't lose them if we rolled over. We took out two strong spikes from the forechains and, with the axe, drove them into the hull to windward just a couple of feet above the water; this was close to the keel since we were nearly on our side. We lashed our supplies to these spikes, as it was safer than their previous position under the chains. We suffered greatly from thirst all day, with no chance of bathing because of the sharks that were constantly around us. I found it impossible to sleep.
August 4. A little before daybreak we perceived that the hulk was heeling over, and aroused ourselves to prevent being thrown off by the movement. At first the roll was slow and gradual, and we contrived to clamber over to windward very well, having taken the precaution to leave ropes hanging from the spikes we had driven in for the provision. But we had not calculated sufficiently upon the acceleration of the impetus; for presently the heel became too violent to allow of our keeping pace with it; and, before either of us knew what was to happen, we found ourselves hurled furiously into the sea, and struggling several fathoms beneath the surface, with the huge hull immediately above us.
August 4. A little before dawn, we noticed that the hulk was tipping over, and we woke up to avoid being thrown off by the movement. At first, the roll was slow and gradual, and we managed to climb over to the side away from the wind pretty well, having taken the precaution of leaving ropes hanging from the spikes we had driven in for the provisions. However, we hadn't anticipated how quickly the tipping would accelerate; soon the angle became too steep for us to keep up, and before either of us realized what was happening, we were violently thrown into the sea, struggling several fathoms below the surface, with the massive hull right above us.
In going under the water I had been obliged to let go my hold upon the rope; and finding that I was completely beneath the vessel, and my strength utterly exhausted, I scarcely made a struggle for life, and resigned myself, in a few seconds, to die. But here again I was deceived, not having taken into consideration the natural rebound of the hull to windward. The whirl of the water upward, which the vessel occasioned in rolling partially back, brought me to the surface still more violently than I had been plunged beneath. Upon coming up, I found myself about twenty yards from the hulk, as near as I could judge. She was lying keel up, rocking furiously from side to side, and the sea in all directions around was much agitated, and full of strong whirlpools. I could see nothing of Peters. An oil-cask was floating within a few feet of me, and various other articles from the brig were scattered about.
As I went underwater, I had to let go of the rope. Realizing I was completely beneath the boat and my strength was totally gone, I barely fought for my life and gave in, accepting that I might die. But once again, I was mistaken, not considering the natural upward movement of the hull to windward. The swirling water from the boat rolling back up pushed me to the surface even more violently than I had been plunged down. When I came up, I found myself about twenty yards from the wreck, as far as I could tell. It was lying upside down, rocking violently from side to side, and the sea all around was choppy, filled with strong whirlpools. I couldn’t see Peters anywhere. An oil drum was floating just a few feet away from me, along with various other items from the brig scattered around.
My principal terror was now on account of the sharks, which I knew to be in my vicinity. In order to deter these, if possible, from approaching me, I splashed the water vigorously with both hands and feet as I swam towards the hulk, creating a body of foam. I have no doubt that to this expedient, simple as it was, I was indebted for my preservation; for the sea all around the brig, just before her rolling over, was so crowded with these monsters, that I must have been, and really was, in actual contact with some of them during my progress. By great good fortune, however, I reached the side of the vessel in safety, although so utterly weakened by the violent exertion I had used that I should never have been able to get upon it but for the timely assistance of Peters, who now, to my great joy, made his appearance (having scrambled up to the keel from the opposite side of the hull), and threw me the end of a rope—one of those which had been attached to the spikes.
My main fear was now because of the sharks that I knew were nearby. To keep them away, if possible, I splashed the water hard with both my hands and feet as I swam toward the wreck, making a lot of foam. I'm sure this simple trick saved my life; the sea all around the ship, just before it rolled over, was so packed with these creatures that I must have been, and actually was, in contact with some of them while I swam. Luckily, I reached the side of the vessel safely, although I was so exhausted from the effort that I wouldn't have been able to climb onto it without the timely help of Peters, who, to my great relief, appeared (having climbed up to the keel from the other side of the hull) and threw me the end of a rope—one of those that had been attached to the spikes.
Having barely escaped this danger, our attention was now directed to the dreadful imminency of another; that of absolute starvation. Our whole stock of provision had been swept overboard in spite of all our care in securing it; and seeing no longer the remotest possibility of obtaining more, we gave way both of us to despair, weeping aloud like children, and neither of us attempting to offer consolation to the other. Such weakness can scarcely be conceived, and to those who have never been similarly situated will, no doubt, appear unnatural; but it must be remembered that our intellects were so entirely disordered by the long course of privation and terror to which we had been subjected, that we could not justly be considered, at that period, in the light of rational beings. In subsequent perils, nearly as great, if not greater, I bore up with fortitude against all the evils of my situation, and Peters, it will be seen, evinced a stoical philosophy nearly as incredible as his present childlike supineness and imbecility—the mental condition made the difference.
Having barely escaped that danger, we were now faced with the terrifying reality of another: the threat of starvation. All our supplies had been swept overboard despite our efforts to secure them, and with no chance of getting more, we both fell into despair, crying out like children, and neither of us trying to comfort the other. Such weakness is almost unimaginable, and to those who have never experienced something similar, it may seem unnatural; but it’s important to remember that our minds were so completely broken by the prolonged suffering and fear we had endured that we couldn’t really be seen as rational beings at that moment. In later dangers, which were nearly as severe, if not worse, I managed to stay strong against all the hardships of my situation, and Peters, as you will see, displayed a stoic philosophy that was almost as hard to believe as his current childlike passivity and mental weakness—the state of our minds made all the difference.
The overturning of the brig, even with the consequent loss of the wine and turtle, would not, in fact, have rendered our situation more deplorable than before, except for the disappearance of the bedclothes by which we had been hitherto enabled to catch rainwater, and of the jug in which we had kept it when caught; for we found the whole bottom, from within two or three feet of the bends as far as the keel, together with the keel itself, thickly covered with large barnacles, which proved to be excellent and highly nutritious food. Thus, in two important respects, the accident we had so greatly dreaded proved a benefit rather than an injury; it had opened to us a supply of provisions, which we could not have exhausted, using it moderately, in a month; and it had greatly contributed to our comfort as regards position, we being much more at our ease, and in infinitely less danger, than before.
The overturning of the boat, even with the loss of the wine and turtle, really wouldn't have made our situation worse than it was before, except for the loss of the bedclothes we had been using to collect rainwater, and the jug we kept it in. We found the entire bottom, from within a couple of feet of the sides to the keel, including the keel itself, thickly covered with large barnacles, which turned out to be excellent and highly nutritious food. So, in two significant ways, the accident we had feared turned out to be a benefit instead of a setback; it provided us with a supply of food that we could have kept using moderately for a month, and it made our position much more comfortable, putting us at ease and in far less danger than before.
The difficulty, however, of now obtaining water blinded us to all the benefits of the change in our condition. That we might be ready to avail ourselves, as far as possible, of any shower which might fall, we took off our shirts, to make use of them as we had of the sheets—not hoping, of course, to get more in this way, even under the most favourable circumstances, than half a gill at a time. No signs of a cloud appeared during the day, and the agonies of our thirst were nearly intolerable. At night Peters obtained about an hour's disturbed sleep, but my intense sufferings would not permit me to close my eyes for a single moment.
The difficulty of getting water now kept us from seeing all the advantages of our new situation. To make sure we could take advantage of any rain that might come, we took off our shirts to use them like we had used the sheets—not expecting to get more than half a gill at a time, even in the best conditions. No clouds showed up during the day, and our thirst was almost unbearable. At night, Peters managed to get about an hour of restless sleep, but my intense suffering wouldn’t let me close my eyes for even a second.
August 5. To-day, a gentle breeze springing up carried us through a vast quantity of seaweed, among which we were so fortunate as to find eleven small crabs, which afforded us several delicious meals. Their shells being quite soft, we ate them entire, and found that they irritated our thirst far less than the barnacles. Seeing no trace of sharks among the seaweed, we also ventured to bathe, and remained in the water for four or five hours, during which we experienced a very sensible diminution of our thirst. Were greatly refreshed, and spent the night somewhat more comfortably than before, both of us snatching a little sleep.
August 5. Today, a gentle breeze picked up and took us through a vast amount of seaweed, where we were lucky enough to find eleven small crabs, which gave us several tasty meals. Since their shells were quite soft, we ate them whole and found they made us less thirsty than barnacles. Not seeing any sign of sharks among the seaweed, we also decided to take a swim and stayed in the water for four or five hours, during which we noticed a significant decrease in our thirst. We felt greatly refreshed and spent the night somewhat more comfortably than before, with both of us managing to get a little sleep.
August 6. This day we were blessed by a brisk and continual rain, lasting from about noon until after dark. Bitterly did we now regret the loss of our jug and carboy; for, in spite of the little means we had of catching the water, we might have filled one, if not both of them. As it was, we contrived to satisfy the cravings of thirst by suffering the shirts to become saturated, and then wringing them so as to let the grateful fluid trickle into our mouths. In this occupation we passed the entire day.
August 6. Today we were fortunate to have a steady and refreshing rain that lasted from around noon until after dark. We bitterly regretted losing our jug and carboy because, despite having limited ways to collect the water, we could have filled one, if not both. Instead, we managed to quench our thirst by soaking our shirts and then wringing them out to let the much-needed water drip into our mouths. We spent the whole day doing this.
August 7. Just at daybreak we both at the same instant descried a sail to the eastward, and evidently coming towards us! We hailed the glorious sight with a long, although feeble shout of rapture; and began instantly to make every signal in our power, by flaring the shirts in the air, leaping as high as our weak condition would permit, and even by hallooing with all the strength of our lungs, although the vessel could not have been less than fifteen miles distant. However, she still continued to near our hulk, and we felt that, if she but held her present course, she must eventually come so close as to perceive us. In about an hour after we first discovered her we could clearly see the people on her decks. She was a long, low, and rakish-looking topsail schooner, with a black ball in her foretopsail, and had, apparently, a full crew. We now became alarmed, for we could hardly imagine it possible that she did not observe us, and were apprehensive that she meant to leave us to perish as we were—an act of fiendish barbarity, which, however incredible it may appear, has been repeatedly perpetrated at sea, under circumstances very nearly similar, and by beings who were regarded as belonging to the human species.2 In this instance, however, by the mercy of God, we were destined to be most happily deceived; for presently we were aware of a sudden commotion on the deck of the stranger, who immediately afterward run up a British flag, and, hauling her wind, bore up directly upon us. In half an hour more we found ourselves in her cabin. She proved to be the Jane Guy, of Liverpool, Captain Guy, bound on a sealing and trading voyage to the South Seas and Pacific.
August 7. Just at daybreak, we both spotted a sail to the east, and it was clearly coming toward us! We greeted the amazing sight with a long, though weak cheer of joy, and immediately started making every signal we could, waving our shirts in the air, jumping as high as our frail conditions allowed, and even shouting with all our strength, even though the ship must have been at least fifteen miles away. Still, it continued to approach our wreck, and we felt that if it maintained its course, it would eventually come close enough to spot us. About an hour after we first saw it, we could clearly see people on its deck. It was a long, low, sleek topsail schooner with a black ball on its foretopsail, and it seemed to have a full crew. We became anxious, as we could hardly believe it wouldn't see us, and were afraid it meant to leave us to die as we were—an act of pure cruelty, which, no matter how unbelievable it sounds, has repeatedly happened at sea under very similar circumstances by people considered human.2 In this case, however, by the grace of God, we were about to be pleasantly surprised; for soon we noticed a sudden flurry on the stranger's deck, which then ran up a British flag and turned directly toward us. In another half hour, we found ourselves in its cabin. It turned out to be the Jane Guy from Liverpool, Captain Guy, on a sealing and trading voyage to the South Seas and Pacific.
2 The case of the brig Polly, of Boston, is one so much in point, and her fate, in many respects, so remarkably similar to our own, that I cannot forbear alluding to it here. This vessel, of one hundred and thirty tons burden, sailed from Boston, with a cargo of lumber and provisions, for Santa Croix, on the twelfth of December, 1811, under the command of Captain Casneau. There were eight souls on board besides the captain—the mate, four seamen, and the cook, together with a Mr. Hunt, and a negro girl belonging to him. On the fifteenth, having cleared the shoal of Georges, she sprung a leak in a gale of wind from the southeast, and was finally capsized; but, the mast going by the board, she afterward righted. They remained in this situation, without fire, and with very little provision, for the period of one hundred and ninety-one days (from December the fifteenth to June the twentieth) when Captain Casneau and Samuel Badger, the only survivers, were taken off the wreck by the Fame, of Hull, Captain Featherstone, bound home from Rio Janeiro. When picked up they were in latitude 28 N., longitude 13 W., having drifted above two thousand miles. On the ninth of July the Fame fell in with the brig Dromeo, Captain Perkins, who landed the two sufferers in Kennebeck. The narrative from which we gather these details ends in the following words.
2 The case of the brig Polly from Boston is very relevant, and its fate is strikingly similar to ours, so I can't help but mention it here. This vessel, weighing one hundred and thirty tons, set sail from Boston with a cargo of lumber and supplies for Santa Croix on December 12, 1811, under Captain Casneau. There were eight people on board besides the captain—the mate, four sailors, and the cook, along with a Mr. Hunt and a Black girl who belonged to him. On the fifteenth, after clearing the shoal of Georges, the ship sprang a leak during a southeast gale and ultimately capsized; however, when the mast went overboard, the ship righted itself. They stayed in this position, without fire and with very little food, for a total of one hundred and ninety-one days (from December 15 to June 20) until Captain Casneau and Samuel Badger, the only survivors, were rescued from the wreck by the Fame of Hull, under Captain Featherstone, who was returning home from Rio Janeiro. When they were picked up, they were at latitude 28 N., longitude 13 W., having drifted more than two thousand miles. On July 9, the Fame encountered the brig Dromeo, Captain Perkins, who brought the two survivors to Kennebec. The account from which we obtain these details concludes with the following words.
"It is natural to inquire how they could float such a vast distance, upon the most frequented part of the Atlantic, and not be discovered all this time. They were passed by more than a dozen sail, one of which came so nigh them that they could distinctly see the people on deck and on the rigging looking at them; but, to the inexpressible disappointment of the starving and freezing men, they stifled the dictates of compassion, hoisted sail, and cruelly abandoned them to their fate."
"It's only natural to wonder how they could drift such a great distance on the busiest part of the Atlantic without being found all this time. They were passed by more than a dozen ships, one of which got so close that they could clearly see the people on deck and in the rigging looking at them; but, to the indescribable disappointment of the starving and freezing men, those people ignored their urge to help, raised their sails, and heartlessly left them to their fate."
CHAPTER XIV.
The Jane Guy was a fine-looking topsail schooner of a hundred and eighty tons burden. She was unusually sharp in the bows, and on a wind, in moderate weather, the fastest sailer I have ever seen. Her qualities, however, as a rough sea-boat, were not so good, and her draught of water was by far too great for the trade to which she was destined. For this peculiar service a larger vessel, and one of a light proportionate draught, is desirable—say a vessel of from three to three hundred and fifty tons. She should be barque-rigged, and in other respects of a different construction from the usual South Sea ships. It is absolutely necessary that she should be well armed. She should have, say ten or twelve twelve pound carronades, and two or three long twelves, with brass blunderbusses, and water-tight arm-chests for each top. Her anchors and cables should be of far greater strength than is required for any other species of trade, and, above all, her crew should be numerous and efficient—not less, for such a vessel as I have described, than fifty or sixty able-bodied men. The Jane Guy had a crew of thirty-five, all able seamen, besides the captain and mate, but she was not altogether as well armed or otherwise equipped as a navigator acquainted with the difficulties and dangers of the trade could have desired.
The Jane Guy was a good-looking topsail schooner weighing one hundred and eighty tons. She had a notably sharp bow and was the fastest sailboat I've ever encountered in moderate winds. However, her performance in rough seas was less impressive, and her draft was much too deep for the trade she was meant for. For this specific service, a larger vessel with a lighter draft is preferable—something between three hundred and three hundred fifty tons. It should be barque-rigged and designed differently from typical South Sea ships. It's crucial that she be well-armed. Ideally, she should carry around ten to twelve twelve-pound carronades and two or three long twelves, along with brass blunderbusses and waterproof arm-chests for each mast. Her anchors and cables need to be much stronger than what's usually required for other types of trade, and, most importantly, her crew should be large and capable—at least fifty or sixty able-bodied men for a ship like the one I've described. The Jane Guy had a crew of thirty-five, all skilled seamen, plus the captain and mate, but she wasn't quite as well-armed or equipped as someone familiar with the challenges and dangers of the trade would have wanted.
Captain Guy was a gentleman of great urbanity of manner, and of considerable experience in the southern traffic, to which he had devoted a great portion of his life. He was deficient, however, in energy, and, consequently, in that spirit of enterprise which is here so absolutely requisite. He was part owner of the vessel in which he sailed, and was invested with discretionary powers to cruise in the South Seas for any cargo which might come most readily to hand. He had on board, as usual in such voyages, beads, looking-glasses, tinder-works, axes, hatchets, saws, adzes, planes, chisels, gouges, gimlets, files, spokeshaves, rasps, hammers, nails, knives, scissors, razors, needles, thread, crockery-ware, calico, trinkets, and other similar articles.
Captain Guy was a man of great charm and had extensive experience in the southern trade, to which he had dedicated much of his life. However, he lacked energy and, as a result, the entrepreneurial spirit that was essential here. He was a part-owner of the ship he sailed on and had the authority to cruise the South Seas for any cargo that was readily available. On board, as is typical for such voyages, he carried beads, mirrors, fire starters, axes, hatchets, saws, adzes, planes, chisels, gouges, drills, files, spokeshaves, rasps, hammers, nails, knives, scissors, razors, needles, thread, dishware, fabric, trinkets, and other similar items.
The schooner sailed from Liverpool on the tenth of July, crossed the Tropic of Cancer on the twenty-fifth, in longitude twenty degrees west, and reached Sal, one of the Cape Verd Islands, on the twenty-ninth, where she took in salt and other necessaries for the voyage. On the third of August she left the Cape Verds and steered southwest, stretching over towards the coast of Brazil so as to cross the equator between the meridians of twenty-eight and thirty degrees west longitude. This is the course usually taken by vessels bound from Europe to the Cape of Good Hope, or by that route to the East Indies. By proceeding thus they avoid the calms and strong contrary currents which continually prevail on the coast of Guinea, while, in the end, it is found to be the shortest track, as westerly winds are never wanting afterward by which to reach the Cape. It was Captain Guy's intention to make his first stoppage at Kerguelen's Land—I hardly know for what reason. On the day we were picked up the schooner was off Cape St. Roque, in longitude 31 W.; so that, when found, we had drifted probably, from north to south, not less than five-and-twenty degrees.
The schooner departed from Liverpool on July 10, crossed the Tropic of Cancer on the 25th at 20 degrees west longitude, and arrived at Sal, one of the Cape Verde Islands, on the 29th, where it took on salt and other supplies for the journey. On August 3, it left the Cape Verds and headed southwest toward the coast of Brazil, planning to cross the equator between 28 and 30 degrees west longitude. This is the route typically taken by ships traveling from Europe to the Cape of Good Hope or to the East Indies. By going this way, they avoid the calm spells and strong opposing currents that are common off the coast of Guinea. Ultimately, it turns out to be the shortest path, as westerly winds are almost always available afterward to reach the Cape. Captain Guy intended to make his first stop at Kerguelen's Land—I’m not really sure why. On the day we were rescued, the schooner was near Cape St. Roque, at 31 degrees west longitude, so by the time we were found, we had likely drifted about 25 degrees from north to south.
On board the Jane Guy we were treated with all the kindness our distressed situation demanded. In about a fortnight, during which time we continued steering to the southeast, with gentle breezes and fine weather, both Peters and myself recovered entirely from the effects of our late privation and dreadful suffering, and we began to remember what had passed rather as a frightful dream from which we had been happily awakened, than as events which had taken place in sober and naked reality. I have since found that this species of partial oblivion is usually brought about by sudden transition, whether from joy to sorrow or from sorrow to joy—the degree of forgetfulness being proportioned to the degree of difference in the exchange. Thus, in my own case, I now feel it impossible to realize the full extent of the misery which I endured during the days spent upon the hulk. The incidents are remembered, but not the feelings which the incidents elicited at the time of their occurrence. I only know that, when they did occur, I then thought human nature could sustain nothing more of agony.
On board the Jane Guy, we were treated with all the kindness our difficult situation required. In about two weeks, during which we kept heading southeast with gentle breezes and nice weather, both Peters and I fully recovered from the effects of our recent hardships and terrible suffering. We started to remember what had happened more like a horrifying dream from which we had happily awakened, rather than as events that had actually taken place in stark reality. I’ve since learned that this type of partial forgetfulness often happens after a quick change, whether from happiness to sadness or from sadness to happiness—the level of forgetfulness matching the level of difference in the shift. So, in my case, I now find it hard to grasp the full extent of the misery I faced during the days spent on the hulk. The incidents are remembered, but not the feelings they stirred at the time. I just know that, when they happened, I thought human nature couldn't handle any more agony.
We continued our voyage for some weeks without any incidents of greater moment than the occasional meeting with whaling-ships, and more frequently with the black or right whale, so called in contradistinction to the spermaceti. These, however, were chiefly found south of the twenty-fifth parallel. On the sixteenth of September, being in the vicinity of the Cape of Good Hope, the schooner encountered her first gale of any violence since leaving Liverpool. In this neighbourhood, but more frequently to the south and east of the promontory (we were to the westward), navigators have often to contend with storms from the northward which rage with great fury. They always bring with them a heavy sea, and one of their most dangerous features is the instantaneous chopping round of the wind, an occurrence almost certain to take place during the greatest force of the gale. A perfect hurricane will be blowing at one moment from the northward or northeast, and in the next not a breath of wind will be felt in that direction, while from the southwest it will come out all at once with a violence almost inconceivable. A bright spot to the southward is the sure forerunner of the change, and vessels are thus enabled to take the proper precautions.
We continued our journey for several weeks without any incidents more significant than the occasional encounter with whaling ships, and more often with black or right whales, named in contrast to the spermaceti whale. These were mostly found south of the twenty-fifth parallel. On September 16th, while near the Cape of Good Hope, the schooner faced her first serious gale since leaving Liverpool. In this area, especially to the south and east of the promontory (we were to the west), sailors often struggle with storms coming from the north that can be very fierce. They always bring a heavy sea, and one of their most dangerous aspects is the sudden shift in wind direction, something that almost always happens during the storm’s peak. At one moment, a strong hurricane might be blowing from the north or northeast, and the next, there won’t be a breath of wind from that direction, while suddenly, the southwest wind kicks up with nearly unimaginable force. A bright spot to the south is a sure sign that a change is coming, allowing vessels to take the necessary precautions.
It was about six in the morning when the blow came on with a white squall, and, as usual, from the northward. By eight it had increased very much, and brought down upon us one of the most tremendous seas I had then ever beheld. Everything had been made as snug as possible, but the schooner laboured excessively, and gave evidence of her bad qualities as a seaboat, pitching her forecastle under at every plunge, and with the greatest difficulty struggling up from one wave before she was buried in another. Just before sunset the bright spot for which we had been on the lookout made its appearance in the southwest, and in an hour afterward we perceived the little headsail we carried flapping listlessly against the mast. In two minutes more, in spite of every preparation, we were hurled on our beam-ends as if by magic, and a perfect wilderness of foam made a clear breach over us as we lay. The blow from the southwest, however, luckily proved to be nothing more than a squall, and we had the good fortune to right the vessel without the loss of a spar. A heavy cross sea gave us great trouble for a few hours after this, but towards morning we found ourselves in nearly as good condition as before the gale. Captain Guy considered that he had made an escape little less than miraculous.
It was around six in the morning when the storm hit with a sudden squall, as usual, coming from the north. By eight, it had intensified significantly, bringing one of the most incredible seas I had ever seen. Everything had been made as secure as possible, but the schooner struggled a lot and showed her weaknesses as a seaboat, burying her forecastle with every wave, and barely managing to rise from one wave before being hit by another. Just before sunset, the bright spot we had been watching appeared in the southwest, and an hour later, we noticed the little headsail we had flapping weakly against the mast. In two minutes, despite all our preparations, we were knocked over as if by magic, and a wild wave of foam crashed over us as we lay there. Fortunately, the strong wind from the southwest turned out to be just a squall, and we were lucky enough to right the vessel without losing any spars. A heavy cross sea caused us trouble for a few hours afterward, but by morning, we found ourselves in almost as good a condition as we were before the storm. Captain Guy thought it was a nearly miraculous escape.
On the thirteenth of October we came in sight of Prince Edward's Island, in latitude 46° 53' S., longitude 37° 46' E. Two days afterward we found ourselves near Possession Island, and presently passed the islands of Crozet, in latitude 42° 59' S., longitude 48° E. On the eighteenth we made Kerguelen's or Desolation Island, in the Southern Indian Ocean, and came to anchor in Christmas Harbour, having four fathoms of water.
On October thirteenth, we spotted Prince Edward's Island, at latitude 46° 53' S and longitude 37° 46' E. Two days later, we found ourselves near Possession Island and soon passed the Crozet Islands, at latitude 42° 59' S and longitude 48° E. On the eighteenth, we arrived at Kerguelen's or Desolation Island in the Southern Indian Ocean and anchored in Christmas Harbour, where the water was four fathoms deep.
This island, or rather group of islands, bears southeast from the Cape of Good Hope, and is distant therefrom nearly eight hundred leagues. It was first discovered in 1772, by the Baron de Kergulen, or Kerguelen, a Frenchman, who, thinking the land to form a portion of an extensive southern continent, carried home information to that effect, which produced much excitement at the time. The government, taking the matter up, sent the baron back in the following year for the purpose of giving his new discovery a critical examination, when the mistake was discovered. In 1777, Captain Cook fell in with the same group, and gave to the principal one the name of Desolation Island, a title which it certainly well deserves. Upon approaching the land, however, the navigator might be induced to suppose otherwise, as the sides of most of the hills, from September to March, are clothed with very brilliant verdure. This deceitful appearance is caused by a small plant resembling saxifrage, which is abundant, growing in large patches on a species of crumbling moss. Besides this plant there is scarcely a sign of vegetation on the island, if we except some coarse rank grass near the harbour, some lichen, and a shrub which bears resemblance to a cabbage shooting into seed, and which has a bitter and acrid taste.
This island, or actually a group of islands, is located southeast of the Cape of Good Hope, about eight hundred leagues away. It was first discovered in 1772 by Baron de Kerguelen, a Frenchman, who thought the land was part of a large southern continent and brought back that information, causing quite a stir at the time. The government took notice and sent the baron back the following year to thoroughly investigate his discovery, at which point the mistake was revealed. In 1777, Captain Cook encountered the same group and named the main island Desolation Island, a name it truly deserves. However, as one approaches the land, the navigator might be led to believe otherwise because the sides of most hills are covered in vibrant greenery from September to March. This misleading appearance is due to a small plant that looks like saxifrage, which grows in large patches on a type of crumbling moss. Besides this plant, there are hardly any signs of vegetation on the island, except for some coarse grass near the harbor, a bit of lichen, and a shrub that resembles a cabbage going to seed, which has a bitter and sharp taste.
The face of the country is hilly, although none of the hills can be called lofty. Their tops are perpetually covered with snow. There are several harbours, of which Christmas Harbour is the most convenient. It is the first to be met with on the northeast side of the island after passing Cape François, which forms the northern shore, and, by its peculiar shape, serves to distinguish the harbour. Its projecting point terminates in a high rock, through which is a large hole, forming a natural arch. The entrance is in latitude 48° 40' S., longitude 69° 6' E. Passing in here, good anchorage may be found under the shelter of several small islands, which form a sufficient protection from all easterly winds. Proceeding on eastwardly from this anchorage you come to Wasp Bay, at the head of the harbour. This is a small basin, completely landlocked, into which you can go with four fathoms, and find anchorage in from ten to three, hard clay bottom. A ship might lie here with her best bower ahead all the year round without risk. To the westward, at the head of Wasp Bay, is a small stream of excellent water, easily procured.
The landscape of the country is hilly, though none of the hills are particularly high. Their peaks are always covered in snow. There are several harbors, with Christmas Harbour being the most accessible. It’s the first one encountered on the northeast side of the island after passing Cape François, which lines the northern shore and is uniquely shaped, making the harbor easy to identify. Its jutting point ends in a high rock with a large hole in it, creating a natural arch. The entrance is at latitude 48° 40' S., longitude 69° 6' E. Once inside, you can find good anchorage protected by several small islands from all east winds. Continuing east from this anchorage leads you to Wasp Bay, at the far end of the harbor. This small, completely landlocked basin allows entry with up to four fathoms and offers anchorage in depths ranging from ten to three, with a solid clay bottom. A ship could stay here all year round with its best anchor set without any risk. To the west at the head of Wasp Bay, there’s a small stream of excellent water that can be easily accessed.
Some seal of the fur and hair species are still to be found on Kerguelen's Island, and sea elephants abound. The feathered tribes are discovered in great numbers. Penguins are very plenty, and of these there are four different kinds. The royal penguin, so called from its size and beautiful plumage, is the largest. The upper part of the body is usually gray, sometimes of a lilach tint; the under portion of the purest white imaginable. The head is of a glossy and most brilliant black, the feet also. The chief beauty of the plumage, however, consists in two broad stripes of a gold colour, which pass along from the head to the breast. The bill is long, and either pink or bright scarlet. These birds walk erect, with a stately carriage. They carry their heads high, with their wings drooping like two arms, and, as their tails project from their body in a line with the legs, the resemblance to a human figure is very striking, and would be apt to deceive the spectator at a casual glance or in the gloom of the evening. The royal penguins which we met with on Kerguelen's Land were rather larger than a goose. The other kinds are the macaroni, the jackass, and the rookery penguin. These are much smaller, less beautiful in plumage, and different in other respects.
Some seals of fur and hair species can still be found on Kerguelen Island, and sea elephants are plentiful. There are large numbers of feathered birds as well. Penguins are very common, with four different types represented. The royal penguin, named for its size and beautiful feathers, is the largest. The top of its body is typically gray, sometimes with a lilac tint, while the underside is the purest white imaginable. The head and feet are a glossy, brilliant black. The main beauty of its plumage, however, comes from two broad gold stripes that run from the head to the chest. The bill is long and can be either pink or bright scarlet. These birds walk upright with a dignified posture. They hold their heads high, with their wings hanging down like two arms, and since their tails extend from their bodies in line with their legs, they strongly resemble a human figure, which can easily deceive a casual observer, especially in the evening light. The royal penguins we encountered on Kerguelen Island were somewhat larger than geese. The other types are the macaroni, the jackass, and the rookery penguin. These are much smaller, less stunning in their plumage, and vary in other ways.
Besides the penguin many other birds are here to be found, among which may be mentioned seahens, blue peterels, teal, ducks, Port Egmont hens, shags, Cape pigeons, the nelly, seaswallows, terns, seagulls, Mother Carey's chickens, Mother Carey's geese, or the great peterel, and, lastly, the albatross.
Besides the penguin, there are many other birds to be found here, including seahens, blue petrels, teal, ducks, Port Egmont hens, shags, Cape pigeons, the nelly, sea swallows, terns, seagulls, Mother Carey's chickens, Mother Carey's geese, the great petrel, and lastly, the albatross.
The great peterel is as large as the common albatross, and is carnivorous. It is frequently called the break-bones, or osprey peterel. They are not at all shy, and, when properly cooked, are palatable food. In flying they sometimes sail very close to the surface of the water, with the wings expanded, without appearing to move them in the least degree, or make any exertion with them whatever.
The great petrel is about the same size as the common albatross and is a meat-eater. It's often referred to as the break-bones or osprey petrel. They are quite bold and, when cooked properly, make for tasty food. While flying, they sometimes glide very close to the water's surface, with their wings spread wide, appearing to move them without any effort at all.
The albatross is one of the largest and fiercest of the South Sea birds. It is of the gull species, and takes its prey on the wing, never coming on land except for the purpose of breeding. Between this bird and the penguin the most singular friendship exists. Their nests are constructed with great uniformity, upon a plan concerted between the two species—that of the albatross being placed in the centre of a little square formed by the nests of four penguins. Navigators have agreed in calling an assemblage of such encampments a rookery. These rookeries have been often described, but, as my readers may not all have seen these descriptions, and as I shall have occasion hereafter to speak of the penguin and albatross, it will not be amiss to say something here of their mode of building and living.
The albatross is one of the largest and most powerful birds from the South Seas. It belongs to the gull family and catches its food in flight, rarely landing on land except to breed. There's a unique friendship between this bird and the penguin. Their nests are built with great consistency, following a plan agreed upon by both species— with the albatross's nest in the center of a small square formed by the nests of four penguins. Sailors have come to call a group of such nesting areas a rookery. These rookeries have been described many times, but since not all of my readers may have seen these descriptions, and because I will need to refer to the penguin and albatross later, it seems appropriate to share a bit about how they build and live.
When the season for incubation arrives, the birds assemble in vast numbers, and for some days appear to be deliberating upon the proper course to be pursued. At length they proceed to action. A level piece of ground is selected, of suitable extent, usually comprising three or four acres, and situated as near the sea as possible, being still beyond its reach. The spot is chosen with reference to its evenness of surface, and that is preferred which is the least encumbered with stones. This matter being arranged, the birds proceed, with one accord, and actuated apparently by one mind, to trace out, with mathematical accuracy, either a square or other parallelogram, as may best suit the nature of the ground, and of just sufficient size to accommodate easily all the birds assembled, and no more—in this particular seeming determined upon preventing the access of future stragglers who have not participated in the labour of the encampment. One side of the place thus marked out runs parallel with the water's edge, and is left open for ingress or egress.
When it’s time for incubation, the birds gather in large numbers and spend a few days deciding on the best course of action. Eventually, they spring into action. They choose a flat piece of land, usually about three or four acres, located as close to the sea as possible without being in its reach. The spot is selected for its flatness, and they prefer areas with the least number of stones. Once that’s settled, the birds work together, seemingly guided by a single mind, to carefully mark out either a square or a rectangle, depending on the ground's layout, ensuring it’s just the right size to comfortably fit all the gathered birds and no more—this seems to be a deliberate choice to keep out any future stragglers who didn’t help set up the camp. One side of this marked area runs parallel to the water’s edge and is left open for entry and exit.
Having defined the limits of the rookery, the colony now begin to clear it of every species of rubbish, picking up stone by stone, and carrying them outside of the lines, and close by them, so as to form a wall on the three inland sides. Just within this wall a perfectly level and smooth walk is formed, from six to eight feet wide, and extending around the encampment—thus serving the purpose of a general promenade.
Having defined the boundaries of the rookery, the colony now begins to clear away every kind of debris, picking up stones one by one and carrying them outside the lines, and close by, to create a wall on the three inland sides. Just inside this wall, a perfectly level and smooth path is made, six to eight feet wide, extending around the camp—serving as a general promenade.
The next process is to partition out the whole area into small squares exactly equal in size. This is done by forming narrow paths, very smooth, and crossing each other at right angles throughout the entire extent of the rookery. At each intersection of these paths the nest of an albatross is constructed, and a penguin's nest in the centre of each square—thus every penguin is surrounded by four albatrosses, and each albatross by a like number of penguins. The penguin's nest consists of a hole in the earth, very shallow, being only just of sufficient depth to keep her single egg from rolling. The albatross is somewhat less simple in her arrangements, erecting a hillock about a foot high and two in diameter. This is made of earth, seaweed, and shells. On its summit she builds her nest.
The next step is to divide the whole area into small squares that are all the same size. This is done by creating narrow, smooth paths that cross each other at right angles throughout the entire rookery. At each intersection of these paths, an albatross builds her nest, and in the center of each square, there’s a penguin’s nest—so every penguin is surrounded by four albatrosses, and each albatross by the same number of penguins. The penguin’s nest is a shallow hole in the ground, just deep enough to keep her single egg from rolling away. The albatross has a slightly more complex setup; she creates a mound about a foot high and two feet in diameter. This mound is made of dirt, seaweed, and shells. On top of it, she builds her nest.
The birds take especial care never to leave their nests unoccupied for an instant during the period of incubation, or, indeed, until the young progeny are sufficiently strong to take care of themselves. While the male is absent at sea in search of food, the female remains on duty, and it is only upon the return of her partner that she ventures abroad. The eggs are never left uncovered at all—while one bird leaves the nest, the other nestling in by its side. This precaution is rendered necessary by the thievish propensities prevalent in the rookery, the inhabitants making no scruple to purloin each other's eggs at every good opportunity.
The birds are very careful never to leave their nests empty for even a moment during incubation or until the young ones are strong enough to fend for themselves. While the male is away at sea looking for food, the female stays on watch, and she only goes out when her partner returns. The eggs are never left uncovered—when one bird leaves the nest, the other stays close by. This caution is needed because of the stealing tendencies common in the rookery, as the residents have no problem taking each other's eggs whenever they get a chance.
Although there are some rookeries in which the penguin and albatross are the sole population, yet in most of them a variety of oceanic birds are to be met with, enjoying all the privileges of citizenship, and scattering their nests here and there, wherever they can find room, never interfering, however, with the stations of the larger species. The appearance of such encampments, when seen from a distance, is exceedingly singular. The whole atmosphere just above the settlement is darkened with the immense number of the albatross (mingled with the smaller tribes) which are continually hovering over it, either going to the ocean or returning home. At the same time a crowd of penguins are to be observed, some passing to and fro in the narrow alleys, and some marching, with the military strut so peculiar to them, around the general promenade-ground which encircles the rookery. In short, survey it as we will, nothing can be more astonishing than the spirit of reflection evinced by these feathered beings, and nothing surely can be better calculated to elicit reflection in every well-regulated human intellect.
Although there are some rookeries where only penguins and albatrosses live, most have various ocean birds, all enjoying the rights of residence, scattering their nests wherever they can find space, without interfering with the larger species' areas. The view of these encampments from a distance is truly unique. The entire area just above the settlement is darkened by the vast number of albatrosses (along with smaller species) constantly hovering around, either heading to the ocean or coming back. At the same time, a crowd of penguins can be seen, some moving back and forth through the narrow pathways, while others strut, with their distinctive military style, around the main gathering area that borders the rookery. In short, no matter how we look at it, nothing is more amazing than the thoughtful nature of these feathered creatures, and nothing could inspire contemplation in any well-balanced human mind quite like it.
On the morning after our arrival in Christmas Harbour the chief mate, Mr. Patterson, took the boats, and (although it was somewhat early in the season) went in search of seal, leaving the captain and a young relation of his on a point of barren land to the westward, they having some business, whose nature I could not ascertain, to transact in the interior of the island. Captain Guy took with him a bottle, in which was a sealed letter, and made his way from the point on which he was set on shore towards one of the highest peaks in the place. It is probable that his design was to leave the letter on that height for some vessel which he expected to come after him. As soon as we lost sight of him we proceeded (Peters and myself being in the mate's boat) on our cruise around the coast, looking for seal. In this business we were occupied about three weeks, examining with great care every nook and corner, not only of Kerguelen's Land, but of the several small islands in the vicinity. Our labours, however, were not crowned with any important success. We saw a great many fur seal, but they were exceedingly shy, and, with the greatest exertions, we could only procure three hundred and fifty skins in all. Sea elephants were abundant, especially on the western coast of the main island, but of these we killed only twenty, and this with great difficulty. On the smaller islands we discovered a good many of the hair seal, but did not molest them. We returned to the schooner on the eleventh, where we found Captain Guy and his nephew, who gave a very bad account of the interior, representing it as one of the most dreary and utterly barren countries in the world. They had remained two nights on the island, owing to some misunderstanding, on the part of the second mate, in regard to the sending a jollyboat from the schooner to take them off.
On the morning after we arrived in Christmas Harbour, the chief mate, Mr. Patterson, took the boats and, even though it was a bit early in the season, went to look for seals. He left the captain and a young relative of his on a barren point of land to the west because they had some business to take care of inland, the specifics of which I couldn't find out. Captain Guy took a bottle containing a sealed letter and made his way from the point where he was dropped off towards one of the highest peaks in the area. It’s likely that he intended to leave the letter on that height for a ship he expected would come after him. Once he was out of sight, Peters and I, who were in the mate's boat, continued our cruise along the coast searching for seals. We spent about three weeks doing this, carefully exploring every nook and cranny not just of Kerguelen's Land, but also the nearby small islands. Unfortunately, our efforts didn’t lead to any significant success. We saw a lot of fur seals, but they were very elusive, and despite our best efforts, we only managed to collect three hundred and fifty skins altogether. Sea elephants were plentiful, especially on the western coast of the main island, but we only managed to kill twenty of them, and that was quite a struggle. On the smaller islands, we found many hair seals but chose not to disturb them. We returned to the schooner on the eleventh, where we found Captain Guy and his nephew, who had a very negative report about the interior, describing it as one of the most desolate and completely barren regions in the world. They had been stuck on the island for two nights due to a mix-up by the second mate regarding sending a jollyboat from the schooner to pick them up.
CHAPTER XV.
On the twelfth we made sail from Christmas Harbour, retracing our way to the westward, and leaving Marion's Island, one of Crozet's group, on the larboard. We afterward passed Prince Edward's Island, leaving it also on our left; then, steering more to the northward, made, in fifteen days, the islands of Tristan d'Acunha, in latitude 37° 8' S., longitude 12° 8' W.
On the twelfth, we set sail from Christmas Harbour, heading back west and leaving Marion's Island, part of the Crozet group, on our left. We then passed Prince Edward's Island, also on our left, and after steering more north, reached Tristan d'Acunha in fifteen days, located at latitude 37° 8' S. and longitude 12° 8' W.
This group, now so well known, and which consists of three circular islands, was first discovered by the Portuguese, and was visited afterward by the Dutch in 1643, and by the French in 1767. The three islands together form a triangle, and are distant from each other about ten miles, there being fine open passages between. The land in all of them is very high, especially in Tristan d'Acunha, properly so called. This is the largest of the group, being fifteen miles in circumference, and so elevated that it can be seen in clear weather at the distance of eighty or ninety miles. A part of the land towards the north rises more than a thousand feet perpendicularly from the sea. A tableland at this height extends back nearly to the centre of the island, and from this tableland arises a lofty cone like that of Teneriffe. The lower half of this cone is clothed with trees of good size, but the upper region is barren rock, usually hidden among the clouds, and covered with snow during the greater part of the year. There are no shoals or other dangers about the island, the shores being remarkably bold and the water deep. On the northwestern coast is a bay, with a beach of black sand, where a landing with boats can be easily effected, provided there be a southerly wind. Plenty of excellent water may here be readily procured; also cod, and other fish, may be taken with hook and line.
This well-known group, consisting of three circular islands, was first discovered by the Portuguese, followed by visits from the Dutch in 1643 and the French in 1767. The three islands form a triangle and are about ten miles apart, with clear passages between them. The land on all of them is very high, especially on Tristan da Cunha, which is the largest of the group, spanning fifteen miles in circumference. It is so elevated that it can be seen from eighty to ninety miles away in clear weather. The northern part of the land rises more than a thousand feet straight up from the sea. A plateau at this height stretches nearly to the center of the island, and from this plateau rises a tall cone resembling that of Tenerife. The lower half of this cone is covered with sizable trees, but the upper part consists of barren rock, often hidden in clouds and covered with snow for most of the year. There are no shoals or other dangers around the island; the shores are steep, and the water is deep. On the northwestern coast, there is a bay with a black sand beach where landing with boats can be easily done, provided there is a southerly wind. Excellent water is readily available here, and you can also catch cod and other fish using hook and line.
The next island in point of size, and the most westwardly of the group, is that called the Inaccessible. Its precise situation is 37° 17' S. latitude, longitude 12° 24' W. It is seven or eight miles in circumference, and on all sides presents a forbidding and precipitous aspect. Its top is perfectly flat, and the whole region is steril, nothing growing upon it except a few stunted shrubs.
The next largest island, and the westernmost one of the group, is called Inaccessible. Its exact location is 37° 17' S latitude, 12° 24' W longitude. It measures about seven or eight miles around and has a steep, rugged appearance on all sides. The top is completely flat, and the entire area is barren, with only a few scraggly shrubs growing on it.
Nightingale Island, the smallest and most southerly, is in latitude 37° 26' S., longitude 12° 12' W. Off its southern extremity is a high ledge of rocky islets; a few also of a similar appearance are seen to the northeast. The ground is irregular and steril, and a deep valley partially separates it.
Nightingale Island, the smallest and southernmost island, is located at latitude 37° 26' S and longitude 12° 12' W. At its southern tip, there's a high ledge of rocky islets, and a few more with a similar look can be seen to the northeast. The terrain is uneven and barren, and a deep valley partially divides it.
The shores of these islands abound, in the proper season, with sea lions, sea elephants, the hair and fur seal, together with a great variety of oceanic birds. Whales are also plenty in their vicinity. Owing to the ease with which these various animals were here formerly taken, the group has been much visited since its discovery. The Dutch and French frequented it at a very early period. In 1790, Captain Patten, of the ship Industry, of Philadelphia, made Tristan d'Acunha, where he remained seven months (from August, 1790, to April, 1791) for the purpose of collecting sealskins. In this time he gathered no less than five thousand six hundred, and says that he would have had no difficulty in loading a large ship with oil in three weeks. Upon his arrival he found no quadrupeds, with the exception of a few wild goats—the island now abounds with all our most valuable domestic animals, which have been introduced by subsequent navigators.
The shores of these islands are full of sea lions, elephant seals, hair seals, and a wide range of ocean birds during the right season. Whales are also common nearby. Because these animals were easy to hunt here in the past, the islands have been visited frequently since they were discovered. The Dutch and French were among the first to come. In 1790, Captain Patten, from the ship Industry out of Philadelphia, arrived at Tristan d'Acunha and stayed for seven months (from August 1790 to April 1791) to collect seal skins. During that time, he gathered over five thousand six hundred and mentioned that he could have easily filled a large ship with oil in three weeks. When he arrived, he found no mammals except for a few wild goats—the island now has all of our most valuable domestic animals, which later navigators introduced.
I believe it was not long after Captain Patten's visit that Captain Colquhoun, of the American brig Betsey, touched at the largest of the islands for the purpose of refreshment. He planted onions, potatoes, cabbages, and a great many other vegetables, an abundance of all which are now to be met with.
I think it wasn't long after Captain Patten's visit that Captain Colquhoun, from the American brig Betsey, stopped at the largest of the islands to restock. He planted onions, potatoes, cabbages, and lots of other vegetables, and now there's plenty of all those available.
In 1811, a Captain Heywood, in the Nereus, visited Tristan. He found there three Americans, who were residing upon the islands to prepare sealskins and oil. One of these men was named Jonathan Lambert, and he called himself the sovereign of the country. He had cleared and cultivated about sixty acres of land, and turned his attention to raising the coffee-plant and sugar-cane, with which he had been furnished by the American minister at Rio Janeiro. This settlement, however, was finally abandoned, and in 1817 the islands were taken possession of by the British government, who sent a detachment for that purpose from the Cape of Good Hope. They did not, however, retain them long; but, upon the evacuation of the country as a British possession, two or three English families took up their residence there independently of the government. On the twenty-fifth of March, 1824, the Berwick, Captain Jeffrey, from London to Van Diemen's Land, arrived at the place, where they found an Englishman of the name of Glass, formerly a corporal in the British artillery. He claimed to be supreme governor of the islands, and had under his control twenty-one men and three women. He gave a very favourable account of the salubrity of the climate and of the productiveness of the soil. The population occupied themselves chiefly in collecting sealskins and sea elephant oil, with which they traded to the Cape of Good Hope, Glass owning a small schooner. At the period of our arrival the governor was still a resident, but his little community had multiplied, there being fifty-six persons upon Tristan, besides a smaller settlement of seven on Nightingale Island. We had no difficulty in procuring almost every kind of refreshment which we required—sheep, hogs, bullocks, rabbits, poultry, goats, fish in great variety, and vegetables were abundant. Having come to anchor close in with the large island, in eighteen fathoms, we took all we wanted on board very conveniently. Captain Guy also purchased of Glass five hundred sealskins and some ivory. We remained here a week, during which the prevailing winds were from the northward and westward, and the weather somewhat hazy. On the fifth of November we made sail to the southward and westward, with the intention of having a thorough search for a group of islands called the Auroras, respecting whose existence a great diversity of opinion has existed.
In 1811, Captain Heywood, aboard the Nereus, visited Tristan. He discovered three Americans living on the islands to prepare sealskins and oil. One of these men, Jonathan Lambert, proclaimed himself the sovereign of the land. He had cleared and cultivated about sixty acres and focused on growing coffee and sugarcane, which he received from the American minister in Rio de Janeiro. However, this settlement was eventually abandoned, and in 1817, the British government took possession of the islands, sending a team from the Cape of Good Hope for that purpose. They didn’t keep control for long; when the area was evacuated as a British possession, two or three English families moved in independently. On March 25, 1824, the Berwick, captained by Jeffrey, arrived at the site and found an Englishman named Glass, a former corporal in the British artillery. He claimed to be the supreme governor of the islands and controlled twenty-one men and three women. He spoke highly of the healthy climate and fertile soil. The population mainly focused on collecting sealskins and sea elephant oil, trading them at the Cape of Good Hope, with Glass owning a small schooner. By the time we arrived, the governor was still living there, but his small community had grown to fifty-six people on Tristan, along with a smaller settlement of seven on Nightingale Island. We had no trouble getting almost every type of refreshment we needed—sheep, pigs, cattle, rabbits, poultry, goats, a variety of fish, and plenty of vegetables. After anchoring close to the large island in eighteen fathoms, we conveniently took everything we needed on board. Captain Guy also bought five hundred sealskins and some ivory from Glass. We stayed there for a week, during which the prevailing winds came from the north and west, with somewhat hazy weather. On November 5, we set sail to the south and west, intending to thoroughly search for a group of islands called the Auroras, about whose existence there has been much debate.
These islands are said to have been discovered as early as 1762, by the commander of the ship Aurora. In 1790, Captain Manuel de Oyarvido, in the ship Princess, belonging to the Royal Philippine Company, sailed, as he asserts, directly among them. In 1794, the Spanish corvette Atrevida went with the determination of ascertaining their precise situation, and, in a paper published by the Royal Hydrographical Society of Madrid in the year 1809, the following language is used respecting this expedition. "The corvette Atrevida practised, in their immediate vicinity, from the twenty-first to the twenty-seventh of January, all the necessary observations, and measured by chronometers the difference of longitude between these islands and the port of Soledad in the Malninas. The islands are three; they are very nearly in the same meridian; the centre one is rather low, and the other two may be seen at nine leagues distance." The observations made on board the Atrevida give the following results as the precise situation of each island. The most northern is in latitude 52° 37' 24" S., longitude 47° 43' 15" W.; the middle one in latitude 53° 2' 40" S., longitude 47° 55' 15" W.; and the most southern in latitude 53° 15' 22" S., longitude 47° 57' 15" W.
These islands were reportedly discovered as early as 1762 by the commander of the ship Aurora. In 1790, Captain Manuel de Oyarvido, aboard the ship Princess belonging to the Royal Philippine Company, claimed to have sailed directly among them. In 1794, the Spanish corvette Atrevida set out to determine their exact location, and a paper published by the Royal Hydrographical Society of Madrid in 1809 mentions this expedition. "The corvette Atrevida conducted all necessary observations in their immediate vicinity from January 21 to 27 and measured the difference in longitude between these islands and the port of Soledad in the Malvinas. There are three islands; they are nearly in the same meridian; the center island is relatively low, and the other two can be seen from nine leagues away." The observations taken on board the Atrevida provide the following results for the precise location of each island: the northernmost is at latitude 52° 37' 24" S, longitude 47° 43' 15" W; the middle island is at latitude 53° 2' 40" S, longitude 47° 55' 15" W; and the southernmost is at latitude 53° 15' 22" S, longitude 47° 57' 15" W.
On the twenty-seventh of January, 1820, Captain James Weddel, of the British navy, sailed from Staten Land also in search of the Auroras. He reports that, having made the most diligent search, and passed not only immediately over the spots indicated by the commander of the Atrevida, but in every direction throughout the vicinity of these spots, he could discover no indication of land. These conflicting statements have induced other navigators to look out for the islands; and, strange to say, while some have sailed through every inch of sea where they are supposed to lie without finding them, there have been not a few who declare positively that they have seen them, and even been close in with their shores. It was Captain Guy's intention to make every exertion within his power to settle the question so oddly in dispute.3
On January 27, 1820, Captain James Weddel of the British navy set sail from Staten Land in search of the Auroras. He reports that, after conducting a thorough search and passing not only directly over the spots indicated by the commander of the Atrevida but also in all directions around those spots, he found no signs of land. These conflicting reports have led other navigators to look for the islands; surprisingly, while some have navigated every part of the sea where the islands are believed to be without finding them, there are several who confidently claim they have seen them and even approached their shores. Captain Guy intended to do everything in his power to resolve this strange dispute.3
3 Among the vessels which at various times have professed to meet with the Auroras may be mentioned the ship San Miguel, in 1769; the ship Aurora, in 1774; the brig Pearl, in 1779; and the ship Dolores, in 1790. They all agree in giving the mean latitude fifty-three degrees south.
3 The ships that have claimed to encounter the Auroras at different times include the ship San Miguel in 1769, the ship Aurora in 1774, the brig Pearl in 1779, and the ship Dolores in 1790. They all report an average latitude of fifty-three degrees south.
We kept on our course, between the south and west, with variable weather, until the twentieth of the month, when we found ourselves on the debated ground, being in latitude 53° 15' S., longitude 47° 58' W.—that is to say, very nearly upon the spot indicated as the situation of the most southern of the group. Not perceiving any sign of land, we continued to the westward in the parallel of fifty-three degrees south, as far as the meridian of fifty degrees west. We then stood to the north as far as the parallel of fifty-two degrees south, when we turned to the eastward, and kept our parallel by double altitudes, morning and evening, and meridian altitudes of the planets and moon. Having thus gone eastwardly to the meridian of the western coast of Georgia, we kept that meridian until we were in the latitude from which we set out. We then took diagonal courses throughout the entire extent of sea circumscribed, keeping a lookout constantly at the masthead, and repeating our examination with the greatest care for a period of three weeks, during which the weather was remarkably pleasant and fair, with no haze whatsoever. Of course we were thoroughly satisfied that, whatever islands might have existed in this vicinity at any former period, no vestige of them remained at the present day. Since my return home I find that the same ground was traced over with equal care in 1822 by Captain Johnson, of the American schooner Henry, and by Captain Morrell, in the American schooner Wasp—in both cases with the same result as in our own.
We stayed on our course, heading southwest, facing changing weather conditions, until the twentieth of the month. At that point, we arrived at the contested area, at latitude 53° 15' S and longitude 47° 58' W—close to the location marked as the southernmost point of the group. Not seeing any signs of land, we continued west along the 53 degrees south latitude until we reached the 50 degrees west meridian. After that, we traveled north to the 52 degrees south parallel, then turned east, maintaining our position by taking double altitudes both morning and evening, along with the meridian altitudes of the planets and the moon. After heading east to the meridian of the western coast of Georgia, we followed that meridian until we reached the latitude from which we originally set out. We then took diagonal routes across the entire sea area we were surveying, constantly keeping a lookout from the masthead, and meticulously repeated our observations for three weeks, during which the weather was notably pleasant and clear, without any haze. We were completely confident that, no matter what islands might have existed here in the past, there was no trace of them today. Since I returned home, I've learned that the same area was carefully surveyed in 1822 by Captain Johnson of the American schooner Henry and by Captain Morrell on the American schooner Wasp—with both crews finding the same results as ours.
CHAPTER XVI.
It had been Captain Guy's original intention, after satisfying himself about the Auroras, to proceed through the Strait of Magellan, and up along the western coast of Patagonia; but information received at Tristan d'Acunha induced him to steer to the southward, in the hope of falling in with some small islands said to lie about the parallel of 60° S., longitude 41° 20' W. In the event of his not discovering these lands, he designed, should the season prove favourable, to push on towards the pole. Accordingly, on the twelfth of December, we made sail in that direction. On the eighteenth we found ourselves about the station indicated by Glass, and cruised for three days in that neighbourhood without finding any traces of the islands he had mentioned. On the twenty-first, the weather being unusually pleasant, we again made sail to the southward, with the resolution of penetrating in that course as far as possible. Before entering upon this portion of my narrative, it may be as well, for the information of those readers who have paid little attention to the progress of discovery in these regions, to give some brief account of the very few attempts at reaching the southern pole which have hitherto been made.
Captain Guy originally planned to check out the Auroras, then go through the Strait of Magellan and up the western coast of Patagonia. However, after receiving information at Tristan d'Acunha, he decided to head south, hoping to find some small islands said to be around latitude 60° S., longitude 41° 20' W. If he couldn’t find these lands, he intended to continue towards the pole, provided the weather was suitable. So, on December 12th, we set sail in that direction. By the 18th, we were near the location indicated by Glass and cruised in that area for three days without finding any signs of the islands he mentioned. On the 21st, with unusually nice weather, we set sail south again, determined to go as far as we could. Before delving into this part of my story, it might be helpful for those readers who aren’t familiar with exploration in these areas to briefly outline the few attempts that have been made to reach the southern pole.
That of Captain Cook was the first of which we have any distinct account. In 1772 he sailed to the south in the Resolution, accompanied by Lieutenant Furneaux in the Adventure. In December he found himself as far as the fifty-eighth parallel of south latitude, and in longitude 26° 57' E. Here he met with narrow fields of ice, about eight or ten inches thick, and running northwest and southeast. This ice was in large cakes, and usually it was packed so closely that the vessels had great difficulty in forcing a passage. At this period Captain Cook supposed, from the vast number of birds to be seen, and from other indications, that he was in the near vicinity of land. He kept on to the southward, the weather being exceedingly cold, until he reached the sixty-fourth parallel, in longitude 38° 14' E. Here he had mild weather, with gentle breezes, for five days, the thermometer being at thirty-six. In January, 1773, the vessels crossed the Antarctic circle, but did not succeed in penetrating much farther; for, upon reaching latitude 67° 15', they found all farther progress impeded by an immense body of ice, extending all along the southern horizon as far as the eye could reach. This ice was of every variety—and some large floes of it, miles in extent, formed a compact mass, rising eighteen or twenty feet above the water. It being late in the season, and no hope entertained of rounding these obstructions, Captain Cook now reluctantly turned to the northward.
Captain Cook's journey was the first one we have a clear record of. In 1772, he sailed south on the Resolution, accompanied by Lieutenant Furneaux on the Adventure. In December, he reached the fifty-eighth parallel of south latitude, at longitude 26° 57' E. There, he encountered narrow fields of ice about eight to ten inches thick, stretching northwest and southeast. The ice came in large chunks and was usually so tightly packed that the ships struggled to navigate through it. At this point, Captain Cook believed that, due to the numerous birds around and other signs, he was close to land. He continued southward in extremely cold weather until he reached the sixty-fourth parallel at longitude 38° 14' E. Here, he enjoyed five days of mild weather with gentle breezes, with the thermometer reading thirty-six degrees. In January 1773, the ships crossed the Antarctic Circle but couldn't go much farther. When they hit latitude 67° 15', they found their way blocked by a massive expanse of ice stretching along the southern horizon as far as they could see. The ice came in many forms, and some large floes, spanning miles, formed a solid mass rising eighteen to twenty feet above the water. With the season getting late and no hope of getting around these obstacles, Captain Cook reluctantly decided to head back north.
In the November following he renewed his search in the Antarctic. In latitude 59° 40' he met with a strong current setting to the southward. In December, when the vessels were in latitude 67° 31', longitude 142° 54' W., the cold was excessive, with heavy gales and fog. Here also birds were abundant; the albatross, the penguin, and the peterel especially. In latitude 70° 23' some large islands of ice were encountered, and shortly afterward, the clouds to the southward were observed to be of a snowy whiteness, indicating the vicinity of field ice. In latitude 71° 10', longitude 106° 54' W., the navigators were stopped, as before, by an immense frozen expanse, which filled the whole area of the southern horizon. The northern edge of this expanse was ragged and broken, so firmly wedged together as to be utterly impassable, and extending about a mile to the southward. Behind it the frozen surface was comparatively smooth for some distance, until terminated in the extreme back-ground by gigantic ranges of ice mountains, the one towering above the other. Captain Cook concluded that this vast field reached the southern pole or was joined to a continent. Mr. J. N. Reynolds, whose great exertions and perseverance have at length succeeded in getting set on foot a national expedition, partly for the purpose of exploring these regions, thus speaks of the attempt of the Resolution. "We are not surprised that Captain Cook was unable to go beyond 71° 10', but we are astonished that he did attain that point on the meridian of 106° 54' west longitude. Palmer's Land lies south of the Shetland, latitude sixty-four degrees, and tends to the southward and westward farther than any navigator has yet penetrated. Cook was standing for this land when his progress was arrested by the ice; which, we apprehend, must always be the case in that point, and so early in the season as the sixth of January—and we should not be surprised if a portion of the icy mountains described was attached to the main body of Palmer's Land, or to some other portions of land lying farther to the southward and westward."
In the following November, he resumed his search in Antarctica. At latitude 59° 40', he encountered a strong current heading south. In December, when the ships were at latitude 67° 31' and longitude 142° 54' W., the cold was extreme, accompanied by heavy storms and fog. Many birds were present, especially the albatross, penguin, and petrel. At latitude 70° 23', they came across large ice islands, and shortly after, noticed that the clouds to the south were snowy white, indicating the proximity of sea ice. At latitude 71° 10', longitude 106° 54' W., the explorers were once again halted by a massive frozen expanse that filled the entire southern horizon. The northern edge of this ice field was jagged and broken, so tightly packed that it was completely impassable, extending about a mile to the south. Behind it, the frozen surface was relatively smooth for some distance, ending in the background with towering ranges of ice mountains, one above the other. Captain Cook concluded this vast ice field might reach the South Pole or be connected to a continent. Mr. J. N. Reynolds, whose significant efforts and determination eventually led to the launch of a national expedition partly aimed at exploring these areas, commented on the Resolution's attempt. "We're not surprised that Captain Cook couldn't go beyond 71° 10', but we are amazed he managed to reach that point at 106° 54' west longitude. Palmer's Land is located south of the Shetland Islands, at latitude sixty-four degrees, and extends further south and west than any navigator has explored to date. Cook was headed for this land when his journey was stopped by the ice, which we believe will always be the case at this location, especially early in the season like January sixth—and we wouldn't be surprised if some of the described icy mountains were connected to the main area of Palmer's Land or to other lands farther south and west."
In 1803, Captains Kreutzenstern and Lisiausky were despatched by Alexander of Russia for the purpose of circumnavigating the globe. In endeavouring to get south, they made no farther than 59° 58', in longitude 70° 15' W. They here met with strong currents setting eastwardly. Whales were abundant, but they saw no ice. In regard to this voyage, Mr. Reynolds observes that, if Kreutzenstern had arrived where he did earlier in the season, he must have encountered ice—it was March when he reached the latitude specified. The winds prevailing, as they do, from the southward and westward, had carried the floes, aided by currents, into that icy region bounded on the north by Georgia, east by Sandwich Land and the South Orkneys, and west by the South Shetland Islands.
In 1803, Captains Kreutzenstern and Lisiausky were sent by Alexander of Russia to sail around the world. In their attempt to head south, they only got as far as 59° 58' latitude, 70° 15' W longitude. Here, they encountered strong eastward currents. Whales were plentiful, but they didn’t see any ice. Regarding this voyage, Mr. Reynolds notes that if Kreutzenstern had arrived at that location earlier in the season, he would have faced ice—he reached the specified latitude in March. The prevailing winds from the south and west had pushed the ice floes, helped by currents, into the icy area bordered to the north by Georgia, to the east by Sandwich Land and the South Orkneys, and to the west by the South Shetland Islands.
In 1822, Captain James Weddell, of the British navy, with two very small vessels, penetrated farther to the south than any previous navigator, and this too, without encountering extraordinary difficulties. He states that although he was frequently hemmed in by ice before reaching the seventy-second parallel, yet, upon attaining it, not a particle was to be discovered, and that, upon arriving at the latitude of 74° 15', no fields, and only three islands of ice were visible. It is somewhat remarkable that, although vast flocks of birds were seen, and other usual indications of land, and although, south of the Shetlands, unknown coasts were observed from the masthead tending southwardly, Weddell discourages the idea of land existing in the polar regions of the south.
In 1822, Captain James Weddell of the British navy, with two very small ships, ventured farther south than any navigator before him, and he did so without facing significant challenges. He reported that even though he was often surrounded by ice before reaching the seventy-second parallel, once he got there, there was no ice in sight. Upon reaching the latitude of 74° 15', he could see no ice fields, just three ice islands. It's quite notable that, while he spotted large flocks of birds and other typical signs of land, and despite observing unknown coastlines extending southward from the Shetlands, Weddell dismissed the idea of land existing in the southern polar regions.
On the eleventh of January, 1823, Captain Benjamin Morrell, of the American schooner Wasp, sailed from Kerguelen's Land with a view of penetrating as far south as possible. On the first of February he found himself in latitude 64° 52' S., longitude 118° 27' E. The following passage is extracted from his journal of that date. "The wind soon freshened to an eleven-knot breeze, and we embraced this opportunity of making to the west; being however convinced that the farther we went south beyond latitude sixty-four degrees the less ice was to be apprehended, we steered a little to the southward, until we crossed the Antarctic circle, and were in latitude 69° 15' E. In this latitude there was no field ice, and very few ice islands in sight."
On January 11, 1823, Captain Benjamin Morrell, of the American schooner Wasp, set sail from Kerguelen's Land with the goal of going as far south as possible. By February 1, he found himself at a latitude of 64° 52' S and a longitude of 118° 27' E. The following excerpt is from his journal on that date: "The wind quickly picked up to an eleven-knot breeze, and we took this chance to head west; convinced that the further south we traveled past latitude sixty-four degrees, the less ice we would encounter, we steered slightly southward until we crossed the Antarctic Circle and reached a latitude of 69° 15' E. At this latitude, there was no field ice and very few ice islands in sight."
Under the date of March fourteenth I find also this entry. "The sea was now entirely free of field ice, and there were not more than a dozen ice islands in sight. At the same time the temperature of the air and water was at least thirteen degrees higher (more mild) than we had ever found it between the parallels of sixty and sixty-two south. We were now in latitude 70° 14' S., and the temperature of the air was forty-seven, and that of the water forty-four. In this situation I found the variation to be 14° 27' easterly, per azimuth.... I have several times passed within the Antarctic circle on different meridians, and have uniformly found the temperature, both of the air and the water, to become more and more mild the farther I advanced beyond the sixty-fifth degree of south latitude, and that the variation decreases in the same proportion. While north of this latitude, say between sixty and sixty-five south, we frequently had great difficulty in finding a passage for the vessel between the immense and almost innumerable ice islands, some of which were from one to two miles in circumference, and more than five hundred feet above the surface of the water."
Under the date of March fourteenth, I also find this entry. "The sea was completely free of field ice, and there were no more than a dozen ice islands visible. At the same time, the temperature of the air and water was at least thirteen degrees warmer than we had ever experienced between the parallels of sixty and sixty-two south. We were now at latitude 70° 14' S., with the air temperature at forty-seven and the water temperature at forty-four. In this situation, I found the variation to be 14° 27' easterly, per azimuth.... I have several times passed within the Antarctic Circle at different longitudes, and I have consistently found the temperatures of both air and water to become increasingly mild the further I advanced beyond sixty-five degrees south latitude, and that the variation decreases in the same proportion. While north of this latitude, between sixty and sixty-five south, we often struggled to find a passage for the vessel between the immense and almost countless ice islands, some of which measured one to two miles in circumference and rose more than five hundred feet above the surface of the water."
Being nearly destitute of fuel and water, and without proper instruments, it being also late in the season, Captain Morrell was now obliged to put back, without attempting any farther progress to the southward, although an entirely open sea lay before him. He expresses the opinion that, had not these overruling considerations obliged him to retreat, he could have penetrated, if not to the pole itself, at least to the eighty-fifth parallel. I have given his ideas respecting these matters somewhat at length, that the reader may have an opportunity of seeing how far they were borne out by my own subsequent experience.
Being almost out of fuel and water, and without the right tools, plus it being late in the season, Captain Morrell had to turn back without making any further progress southward, even though an entirely open sea was in front of him. He believes that if these pressing issues hadn’t forced him to retreat, he could have made it, if not to the pole itself, at least to the eighty-fifth parallel. I have detailed his thoughts on these matters somewhat extensively, so the reader can see how much they matched my own later experiences.
In 1831, Captain Briscoe, in the employ of the Messieurs Enderby, whale-ship owners of London, sailed in the brig Lively for the South Seas, accompanied by the cutter Tula. On the twenty-eighth of February, being in latitude 66° 30' S., longitude 47° 31' E., he descried land, and "clearly discovered through the snow the black peaks of a range of mountains running E. S. E." He remained in this neighbourhood during the whole of the following month, but was unable to approach the coast nearer than within ten leagues, owing to the boisterous state of the weather. Finding it impossible to make farther discovery during this season, he returned northward to winter in Van Diemen's Land.
In 1831, Captain Briscoe, working for the Enderby brothers, whale-ship owners in London, set sail on the brig Lively for the South Seas, along with the cutter Tula. On February 28, while at latitude 66° 30' S and longitude 47° 31' E, he spotted land and "clearly saw through the snow the black peaks of a mountain range stretching E.S.E." He stayed in that area for the entire next month but couldn't get closer to the coast than about ten leagues due to rough weather. Realizing he couldn't make any further discoveries that season, he headed north to spend the winter in Van Diemen's Land.
In the beginning of 1832 he again proceeded southwardly, and on the fourth of February land was seen to the southeast in latitude 67° 15', longitude 69° 29' W. This was soon found to be an island near the headland of the country he had first discovered. On the twenty-first of the month he succeeded in landing on the latter, and took possession of it in the name of William IV., calling it Adelaide's Island, in honour of the English queen. These particulars being made known to the Royal Geographical Society of London, the conclusion was drawn by that body "that there is a continuous tract of land extending from 47° 30' E. to 69° 29' W. longitude, running the parallel of from sixty-six to sixty-seven degrees south latitude." In respect to this conclusion Mr. Reynolds observes, "In the correctness of it we by no means concur; nor do the discoveries of Briscoe warrant any such inference. It was within these limits that Weddell proceeded south on a meridian to the east of Georgia, Sandwich Land, and the South Orkney and Shetland Islands." My own experience will be found to testify most directly to the falsity of the conclusion arrived at by the society.
At the beginning of 1832, he headed south again, and on February 4th, land was spotted to the southeast at latitude 67° 15', longitude 69° 29' W. This was quickly identified as an island near the headland of the area he had initially discovered. On the 21st of the month, he successfully landed on that headland and claimed it in the name of William IV, naming it Adelaide's Island in honor of the English queen. These details were shared with the Royal Geographical Society of London, which concluded, "there is a continuous tract of land extending from 47° 30' E. to 69° 29' W. longitude, running parallel to from sixty-six to sixty-seven degrees south latitude." Regarding this conclusion, Mr. Reynolds states, "We do not agree with its accuracy; nor do Briscoe's discoveries support any such inference. Weddell traveled south within these limits on a meridian east of Georgia, Sandwich Land, and the South Orkney and Shetland Islands." My own experience directly contradicts the conclusion reached by the society.
These are the principal attempts which have been made at penetrating to a high southern latitude, and it will now be seen that there remained, previous to the voyage of the Jane, nearly three hundred degrees of longitude in which the Antarctic circle had not been crossed at all. Of course a wide field lay before us for discovery, and it was with feelings of most intense interest that I heard Captain Guy express his resolution of pushing boldly to the southward.
These are the main efforts that have been made to reach a high southern latitude, and it's now clear that before the voyage of the Jane, nearly three hundred degrees of longitude had not been crossed at all within the Antarctic Circle. Naturally, there was a vast area ahead of us for exploration, and I felt a rush of excitement when I heard Captain Guy declare his determination to head boldly south.
CHAPTER XVII.
We kept our course southwardly for four days after giving up the search for Glass's Islands, without meeting with any ice at all. On the twenty-sixth, at noon, we were in latitude 63° 23' S., longitude 41° 25' W. We now saw several large ice islands, and a floe of field ice, not, however, of any great extent. The winds generally blew from the southeast, or the northeast, but were very light. Whenever we had a westerly wind, which was seldom, it was invariably attended with a rain squall. Every day we had more or less snow. The thermometer, on the twenty-seventh, stood at thirty-five.
We continued heading south for four days after abandoning the search for Glass's Islands, without encountering any ice. On the twenty-sixth, at noon, we were at latitude 63° 23' S and longitude 41° 25' W. We then spotted several large icebergs and a patch of sea ice, though it wasn't very extensive. The winds usually came from the southeast or northeast, but they were quite light. Whenever we had a westerly wind, which was rare, it always brought a rain squall. Every day, we experienced varying amounts of snow. The temperature on the twenty-seventh was thirty-five degrees.
January 1, 1828. This day we found ourselves completely hemmed in by the ice, and our prospects looked cheerless indeed. A strong gale blew, during the whole forenoon, from the northeast, and drove large cakes of the drift against the rudder and counter with such violence that we all trembled for the consequences. Towards evening, the gale still blowing with fury, a large field in front separated, and we were enabled, by carrying a press of sail, to force a passage through the smaller flakes into some open water beyond. As we approached this space we took in sail by degrees, and having at length got clear, lay to under a single reefed foresail.
January 1, 1828. Today, we found ourselves completely surrounded by ice, and our situation looked pretty grim. A strong wind blew all morning from the northeast, pushing large chunks of ice against the rudder and the back of the ship with such force that we were all worried about what might happen. As evening approached, the wind continued to rage, and a large area of ice in front of us broke apart. We managed to use a lot of sail to push our way through the smaller bits of ice into some open water beyond. As we got closer to this area, we gradually reduced our sail, and once we finally got free, we maintained our position under a single reefed foresail.
January 2. We had now tolerably pleasant weather. At noon we found ourselves in latitude 69° 10' S., longitude 42° 20' W., having crossed the Antarctic circle. Very little ice was to be seen to the southward, although large fields of it lay behind us. This day we rigged some sounding gear, using a large iron pot capable of holding twenty gallons, and a line of two hundred fathoms. We found the current setting to the north, about a quarter of a mile per hour. The temperature of the air was now about thirty-three. Here we found the variation to be 14° 28' easterly, per azimuth.
January 2. We now had fairly nice weather. At noon, we were at latitude 69° 10' S, longitude 42° 20' W, having crossed the Antarctic Circle. There was very little ice visible to the south, although there were large fields of it behind us. That day, we set up some sounding equipment, using a large iron pot that could hold twenty gallons and a line of two hundred fathoms. We found the current moving north at about a quarter of a mile per hour. The air temperature was around thirty-three degrees. Here, we found the variation to be 14° 28' easterly, as measured by azimuth.
January 5. We had still held on to the southward without any very great impediments. On this morning, however, being in latitude 73° 15' E., longitude 42° 10' W., we were again brought to a stand by an immense expanse of firm ice. We saw, nevertheless, much open water to the southward, and felt no doubt of being able to reach it eventually. Standing to the eastward along the edge of the floe, we at length came to a passage of about a mile in width, through which we warped our way by sundown. The sea in which we now were was thickly covered with ice islands, but had no field ice, and we pushed on boldly as before. The cold did not seem to increase, although we had snow very frequently, and now and then hail squalls of great violence. Immense flocks of the albatross flew over the schooner this day, going from southeast to northwest.
January 5. We had managed to keep heading south without too many obstacles. However, this morning, while at latitude 73° 15' E. and longitude 42° 10' W., we found ourselves stopped again by a huge area of solid ice. Despite this, we spotted quite a bit of open water to the south and felt confident that we could reach it eventually. Moving east along the edge of the ice floe, we finally came upon a passage about a mile wide, which we carefully navigated through by sundown. The sea around us was covered with ice islands, but there was no solid ice field, so we pressed on confidently as before. The cold didn’t seem to get worse, even though we had frequent snowfall and occasional violent hail squalls. Huge flocks of albatross flew over the schooner today, traveling from southeast to northwest.
January 7. The sea still remained pretty well open, so that we had no difficulty in holding on our course. To the westward we saw some icebergs of incredible size, and in the afternoon passed very near one whose summit could not have been less than four hundred fathoms from the surface of the ocean. Its girth was probably, at the base, three quarters of a league, and several streams of water were running from crevices in its sides. We remained in sight of this island two days, and then only lost it in a fog.
January 7. The sea was still pretty clear, so we had no trouble staying on our course. To the west, we spotted some enormous icebergs, and in the afternoon, we passed very close to one that must have been at least four hundred fathoms from the surface of the ocean. Its base was probably about three-quarters of a league wide, and several streams of water flowed from the cracks in its sides. We could see this iceberg for two days before we finally lost sight of it in a fog.
January 10. Early this morning we had the misfortune to lose a man overboard. He was an American, named Peter Vredenburgh, a native of New-York, and was one of the most valuable hands on board the schooner. In going over the bows his foot slipped, and he fell between two cakes of ice, never rising again. At noon of this day we were in latitude 78° 30', longitude 40° 15' W. The cold was now excessive, and we had hail squalls continually from the northward and eastward. In this direction also we saw several more immense icebergs, and the whole horizon to the eastward appeared to be blocked up with field ice, rising in tiers, one mass above the other. Some driftwood floated by during the evening, and a great quantity of birds flew over, among which were Nellies, peterels, albatrosses, and a large bird of a brilliant blue plumage. The variation here, per azimuth, was less than it had been previously to our passing the Antarctic circle.
January 10. Early this morning, we unfortunately lost a man overboard. He was an American named Peter Vredenburgh, from New York, and he was one of the most valuable crew members on the schooner. While trying to get over the bow, his foot slipped, and he fell between two ice floes, never to resurface. By noon today, we were at latitude 78° 30' and longitude 40° 15' W. The cold was now extreme, and we faced constant hail squalls coming from the north and east. In that direction, we also saw several massive icebergs, and the entire horizon to the east was filled with sea ice, rising in layers, one above the other. Some driftwood floated by in the evening, and many birds flew overhead, including Nellies, petrels, albatrosses, and a large bird with brilliant blue feathers. The magnetic variation here, measured by azimuth, was less than it had been before we crossed the Antarctic Circle.
January 12. Our passage to the south again looked doubtful, as nothing was to be seen in the direction of the pole but one apparently limitless floe, backed by absolute mountains of ragged ice, one precipice of which arose frowningly above the other. We stood to the westward until the fourteenth, in the hope of finding an entrance.
January 12. Our journey south seemed uncertain once more, as all we could see toward the pole was an endless ice floe, with massive piles of jagged ice looming behind it, one steep cliff rising menacingly above the others. We continued westward until the fourteenth, hoping to find a way through.
January 14. This morning we reached the western extremity of the field which had impeded us, and, weathering it, came to an open sea, without a particle of ice. Upon sounding with two hundred fathoms, we here found a current setting southwardly at the rate of half a mile per hour. The temperature of the air was forty-seven, that of the water thirty-four. We now sailed to the southward, without meeting any interruption of moment until the sixteenth, when, at noon, we were in latitude 81° 21', longitude 42° W. We here again sounded, and found a current setting still southwardly, and at the rate of three quarters of a mile per hour. The variation per azimuth had diminished, and the temperature of the air was mild and pleasant, the thermometer being as high as fifty-one. At this period not a particle of ice was to be discovered. All hands on board now felt certain of attaining the pole.
January 14. This morning we reached the far west side of the field that had been blocking us, and after getting past it, we found an open sea with no ice at all. When we took soundings at two hundred fathoms, we discovered a current flowing south at half a mile per hour. The air temperature was forty-seven degrees, and the water temperature was thirty-four degrees. We then sailed south without any major interruptions until the sixteenth, when, at noon, we were at latitude 81° 21', longitude 42° W. We took another sounding here and found a current still heading south at three-quarters of a mile per hour. The variation by azimuth had decreased, and the air temperature was mild and pleasant, reaching fifty-one degrees. At this point, there was no ice to be found. Everyone on board now felt confident that we would reach the pole.
January 17. This day was full of incident. Innumerable flights of birds flew over us from the southward, and several were shot from the deck; one of them, a species of pelican, proved to be excellent eating. About midday a small floe of ice was seen from the masthead off the larboard bow, and upon it there appeared to be some large animal. As the weather was good and nearly calm, Captain Guy ordered out two of the boats to see what it was. Dirk Peters and myself accompanied the mate in the larger boat. Upon coming up with the floe, we perceived that it was in the possession of a gigantic creature of the race of the Arctic bear, but far exceeding in size the largest of these animals. Being well armed, we made no scruple of attacking it at once. Several shots were fired in quick succession, the most of which took effect, apparently, in the head and body. Nothing discouraged, however, the monster threw himself from the ice, and swam, with open jaws, to the boat in which were Peters and myself. Owing to the confusion which ensued among us at this unexpected turn of the adventure, no person was ready immediately with a second shot, and the bear had actually succeeded in getting half his vast bulk across our gunwale, and seizing one of the men by the small of his back, before any efficient means were taken to repel him. In this extremity nothing but the promptness and agility of Peters saved us from destruction. Leaping upon the back of the huge beast, he plunged the blade of a knife behind the neck, reaching the spinal marrow at a blow. The brute tumbled into the sea lifeless, and without a struggle, rolling over Peters as he fell. The latter soon recovered himself, and a rope being thrown him, he secured the carcass before entering the boat. We then returned in triumph to the schooner, towing our trophy behind us. This bear, upon admeasurement, proved to be full fifteen feet in his greatest length. His wool was perfectly white, and very coarse, curling tightly. The eyes were of a blood red, and larger than those of the Arctic bear—the snout also more rounded, rather resembling the snout of the bulldog. The meat was tender, but excessively rank and fishy, although the men devoured it with avidity, and declared it excellent eating.
January 17. This day was packed with action. Countless flocks of birds flew over us from the south, and several were shot from the deck; one of them, a type of pelican, turned out to be delicious. Around noon, a small ice floe was spotted from the masthead off the port side, and it seemed to host a large animal. Since the weather was nice and nearly calm, Captain Guy ordered out two boats to investigate. Dirk Peters and I joined the mate in the larger boat. When we reached the floe, we realized it was occupied by a gigantic creature of the Arctic bear species, far larger than any we had seen before. Armed and ready, we quickly decided to attack. Several shots were fired in rapid succession, most hitting the monster in the head and body. Undeterred, it leaped off the ice and swam, jaws wide open, toward the boat where Peters and I were. In the chaos that followed this unexpected twist, nobody was prepared to fire a second shot, and the bear managed to get half of its massive body over our gunwale, grabbing one of the men by the lower back before we could effectively fend it off. In this critical moment, it was Peters' quick thinking and agility that saved us from disaster. He jumped onto the back of the huge beast and plunged a knife behind its neck, hitting the spinal cord in a single blow. The creature fell lifeless into the sea without a struggle, rolling over Peters as it went down. He quickly regained his footing, and after a rope was thrown to him, he secured the carcass before getting back into the boat. We then triumphantly returned to the schooner, towing our prize behind us. Upon measuring, the bear turned out to be a full fifteen feet long. Its fur was perfectly white, very coarse, and tightly curled. Its eyes were blood red and larger than those of the Arctic bear, and the snout was more rounded, resembling that of a bulldog. The meat was tender but had a strong, fishy taste, yet the crew devoured it eagerly, insisting it was excellent.
Scarcely had we got our prize alongside, when the man at the masthead gave the joyful shout of "land on the starboard bow!" All hands were now upon the alert, and, a breeze springing up very opportunely from the northward and eastward, we were soon close in with the coast. It proved to be a low rocky islet, of about a league in circumference, and altogether destitute of vegetation, if we except a species of prickly pear. In approaching it from the northward, a singular ledge of rock is seen projecting into the sea, and bearing a strong resemblance to corded bales of cotton. Around this ledge to the westward is a small bay, at the bottom of which our boats effected a convenient landing.
As soon as we had our prize alongside, the guy in the crow's nest shouted joyfully, "land on the starboard bow!" Everyone was instantly alert, and with a nice breeze coming in from the northeast, we quickly got close to the coast. It turned out to be a small, rocky islet about a league around, completely bare of vegetation, except for some prickly pear. Approaching from the north, there's a strange rock ledge jutting into the sea that looks a lot like bales of cotton stacked together. To the west of this ledge, there’s a little bay where our boats made a convenient landing.
It did not take us long to explore every portion of the island, but, with one exception, we found nothing worthy of observation. In the southern extremity, we picked up near the shore, half buried in a pile of loose stones, a piece of wood, which seemed to have formed the prow of a canoe. There had been evidently some attempt at carving upon it, and Captain Guy fancied that he made out the figure of a tortoise, but the resemblance did not strike me very forcibly. Besides this prow, if such it were, we found no other token that any living creature had ever been here before. Around the coast we discovered occasional small floes of ice—but these were very few. The exact situation of this islet (to which Captain Guy gave the name of Bennet's Islet, in honour of his partner in the ownership of the schooner) is 82° 50' S. latitude, 42° 20' W. longitude.
It didn't take us long to explore every part of the island, but, aside from one thing, we didn't find anything worth noting. In the southern part, we found a piece of wood near the shore, half-buried in a pile of loose stones, which looked like the front of a canoe. It seemed there had been some attempt to carve designs on it, and Captain Guy thought he noticed the shape of a tortoise, but I didn't see it that clearly. Other than this canoe prow, if that's what it was, we found no other sign that anyone had been here before. Along the coast, we spotted a few small ice floes—but they were really rare. The exact location of this islet (which Captain Guy named Bennet's Islet in honor of his business partner in the ownership of the schooner) is 82° 50' S. latitude, 42° 20' W. longitude.
We had now advanced to the southward more than eight degrees farther than any previous navigators, and the sea still lay perfectly open before us. We found, too, that the variation uniformly decreased as we proceeded, and, what was still more surprising, that the temperature of the air, and latterly of the water, became milder. The weather might even be called pleasant, and we had a steady but very gentle breeze always from some northern point of the compass. The sky was usually clear, with now and then a slight appearance of thin vapour in the southern horizon—this, however, was invariably of brief duration. Two difficulties alone presented themselves to our view; we were getting short of fuel, and symptoms of scurvy had occurred among several of the crew. These considerations began to impress upon Captain Guy the necessity of returning, and he spoke of it frequently. For my own part, confident as I was of soon arriving at land of some description upon the course we were pursuing, and having every reason to believe, from present appearances, that we should not find it the steril soil met with in the higher Arctic latitudes, I warmly pressed upon him the expediency of persevering, at least for a few days longer, in the direction we were now holding. So tempting an opportunity of solving the great problem in regard to an Antarctic continent had never yet been afforded to man, and I confess that I felt myself bursting with indignation at the timid and ill-timed suggestions of our commander. I believe, indeed, that what I could not refrain from saying to him on this head had the effect of inducing him to push on. While, therefore, I cannot but lament the most unfortunate and bloody events which immediately arose from my advice, I must still be allowed to feel some degree of gratification at having been instrumental, however remotely, in opening to the eye of science one of the most intensely exciting secrets which has ever engrossed its attention.
We had now traveled southward more than eight degrees farther than any previous explorers, and the sea was still completely open in front of us. We also noticed that the variation consistently decreased as we continued, and, even more surprisingly, the air temperature, and recently the water temperature, became milder. The weather could even be described as pleasant, with a steady but very light breeze always coming from some northern direction. The sky was usually clear, with only occasional brief appearances of thin mist on the southern horizon—though this never lasted long. Only two issues presented themselves to us; we were running low on fuel, and some crew members were showing signs of scurvy. These factors started to make Captain Guy think about the need to turn back, and he mentioned it often. For my part, confident that we would soon reach some kind of land on our current course, and believing, based on current signs, that it wouldn’t be the barren soil found in the higher Arctic regions, I strongly urged him to continue for at least a few more days in the direction we were heading. No opportunity to solve the mystery of an Antarctic continent had ever been presented to humanity before, and I admit I felt incredibly frustrated by our captain’s cautious and ill-timed suggestions. I truly believe that what I couldn’t help but express to him on this matter encouraged him to move forward. While I cannot help but regret the unfortunate and tragic events that followed my advice, I still feel some satisfaction in having played a part, however small, in revealing one of the most thrilling secrets that has captivated scientific attention.
CHAPTER XVIII.
January 18. This morning4 we continued to the southward, with the same pleasant weather as before. The sea was entirely smooth, the air tolerably warm and from the northeast, the temperature of the water fifty-three. We now again got our sounding-gear in order, and, with a hundred and fifty fathoms of line, found the current setting towards the pole at the rate of a mile an hour. This constant tendency to the southward, both in the wind and current, caused some degree of speculation, and even of alarm, in different quarters of the schooner, and I saw distinctly that no little impression had been made upon the mind of Captain Guy. He was exceedingly sensitive to ridicule, however, and I finally succeeded in laughing him out of his apprehensions. The variation was now very trivial. In the course of the day we saw several large whales of the right species, and innumerable flights of the albatross passed over the vessel. We also picked up a bush, full of red berries, like those of the hawthorn, and the carcass of a singular-looking land-animal. It was three feet in length, and but six inches in height, with four very short legs, the feet armed with long claws of a brilliant scarlet, and resembling coral in substance. The body was covered with a straight silky hair, perfectly white. The tail was peaked like that of a rat, and about a foot and a half long. The head resembled a cat's, with the exception of the ears—these were flapped like the ears of a dog. The teeth were of the same brilliant scarlet as the claws.
January 18. This morning4 we continued heading south, with the same nice weather as before. The sea was completely calm, the air was reasonably warm and coming from the northeast, with the water temperature at fifty-three degrees. We got our sounding gear ready again, and with a hundred and fifty fathoms of line, we found the current moving toward the pole at a speed of a mile per hour. This constant pull to the south, both from the wind and current, caused some speculation and even a bit of alarm on the schooner, and I could see that it had definitely affected Captain Guy. He was very sensitive to mockery, but I eventually managed to ease his worries with some laughter. The variation was now very slight. Throughout the day, we spotted several large whales of the right species, and countless albatross flights passed by the vessel. We also found a bush full of red berries, similar to those of the hawthorn, and the remains of a strange-looking land animal. It was three feet long and only six inches tall, with four very short legs and feet equipped with long, bright scarlet claws that looked like coral. Its body was covered in straight, silky white hair. The tail was pointed like a rat's and about a foot and a half long. The head resembled a cat's, except for the ears, which flopped like a dog's. The teeth were the same bright scarlet as the claws.
4 The terms morning and evening, which I have made use of to avoid confusion in my narrative, as far as possible, must not, of course, be taken in their ordinary sense. For a long time past we had had no night at all, the daylight being continual. The dates throughout are according to nautical time, and the bearings must be understood as per compass. I would also remark in this place, that I cannot, in the first portion of what is here written, pretend to strict accuracy in respect to dates, or latitudes and longitudes, having kept no regular journal until after the period of which this first portion treats. In many instances I have relied altogether upon memory.
4 The terms morning and evening that I’ve used to clarify my story shouldn’t be taken literally. For a long time, we didn’t have night at all, as the daylight was constant. The dates throughout are based on nautical time, and the directions should be understood according to the compass. I should also mention that in the first part of this text, I can’t claim strict accuracy regarding dates or coordinates, as I didn’t keep a regular journal until after this initial period. In many cases, I’ve relied entirely on memory.
January 19. To-day, being in latitude 83° 20', longitude 43° 5' W. (the sea being of an extraordinarily dark colour), we again saw land from the masthead, and, upon a closer scrutiny, found it to be one of a group of very large islands. The shore was precipitous, and the interior seemed to be well wooded, a circumstance which occasioned us great joy. In about four hours from our first discovering the land we came to anchor in ten fathoms, sandy bottom, a league from the coast, as a high surf, with strong ripples here and there, rendered a nearer approach of doubtful expediency. The two largest boats were now ordered out, and a party, well armed (among whom were Peters and myself), proceeded to look for an opening in the reef which appeared to encircle the island. After searching about for some time, we discovered an inlet, which we were entering, when we saw four large canoes put off from the shore, filled with men who seemed to be well armed. We waited for them to come up, and, as they moved with great rapidity, they were soon within hail. Captain Guy now held up a white handkerchief on the blade of an oar, when the strangers made a full stop, and commenced a loud jabbering all at once, intermingled with occasional shouts, in which we could distinguish the words Anamoo-moo! and Lama-Lama! They continued this for at least half an hour, during which we had a good opportunity of observing their appearance.
January 19. Today, at latitude 83° 20' and longitude 43° 5' W. (the sea looking exceptionally dark), we spotted land from the masthead. Upon closer inspection, we realized it was one of a group of very large islands. The shore was steep, and the interior appeared to be well-forested, which brought us great joy. About four hours after first spotting the land, we anchored in ten fathoms with a sandy bottom, a league from the coast, since a high surf and strong ripples made getting closer risky. The two largest boats were dispatched, and a well-armed group (including Peters and me) went to search for an opening in the reef surrounding the island. After searching for a while, we found an inlet just as four large canoes filled with armed men set out from the shore. We waited for them to come closer, and since they moved quickly, they were soon within shouting distance. Captain Guy waved a white handkerchief on the blade of an oar, prompting the strangers to stop and start loudly chattering all at once, mixed with occasional shouts where we could hear the words Anamoo-moo! and Lama-Lama! They continued this for at least half an hour, giving us a good chance to observe how they looked.
In the four canoes, which might have been fifty feet long and five broad, there were a hundred and ten savages in all. They were about the ordinary stature of Europeans, but of a more muscular and brawny frame. Their complexion a jet black, with thick and long woolly hair. They were clothed in skins of an unknown black animal, shaggy and silky, and made to fit the body with some degree of skill, the hair being inside, except where turned out about the neck, wrists, and ankles. Their arms consisted principally of clubs, of a dark, and apparently very heavy wood. Some spears, however, were observed among them, headed with flint, and a few slings. The bottoms of the canoes were full of black stones about the size of a large egg.
In the four canoes, each about fifty feet long and five feet wide, there were a total of a hundred and ten people. They were roughly the same height as Europeans but had a more muscular and sturdy build. Their skin was jet black, and they had thick, long, woolly hair. They wore garments made from the skins of an unfamiliar black animal, which were shaggy and silky, tailored to fit their bodies with some skill, with the fur on the inside except at the neck, wrists, and ankles. Their weapons mainly consisted of clubs made from a dark, seemingly heavy wood. However, some spears were also seen among them, tipped with flint, along with a few slings. The bottoms of the canoes were filled with black stones roughly the size of large eggs.
When they had concluded their harangue (for it was clear they intended their jabbering for such), one of them who seemed to be the chief stood up in the prow of his canoe, and made signs for us to bring our boats alongside of him. This hint we pretended not to understand, thinking it the wiser plan to maintain, if possible, the interval between us, as their number more than quadrupled our own. Finding this to be the case, the chief ordered the three other canoes to hold back, while he advanced towards us with his own. As soon as he came up with us he leaped on board the largest of our boats, and seated himself by the side of Captain Guy, pointing at the same time to the schooner, and repeating the words Anamoo-moo! and Lama-Lama! We now put back to the vessel, the four canoes following at a little distance.
Once they finished their long speech (which was clearly meant as such), one of them, who seemed to be the leader, stood up at the front of his canoe and gestured for us to bring our boats alongside him. We pretended not to understand, thinking it was smarter to keep some distance between us, as their numbers were more than four times ours. Noticing this, the chief ordered the three other canoes to stay back while he moved toward us with his own. As soon as he reached us, he jumped on board our biggest boat and sat next to Captain Guy, pointing at the schooner and repeating the words Anamoo-moo! and Lama-Lama! We then headed back to the vessel, with the four canoes following a short distance behind.
Upon getting alongside the chief evinced symptoms of extreme surprise and delight, clapping his hands, slapping his thighs and breast, and laughing obstreperously. His followers behind joined in his merriment, and for some minutes the din was so excessive as to be absolutely deafening. Quiet being at length restored, Captain Guy ordered the boats to be hoisted up, as a necessary precaution, and gave the chief (whose name we soon found to be Too-wit) to understand that we could admit no more than twenty of his men on deck at one time. With this arrangement he appeared perfectly satisfied, and gave some directions to the canoes, when one of them approached, the rest remaining about fifty yards off. Twenty of the savages now got on board, and proceeded to ramble over every part of the deck, and scramble about among the rigging, making themselves much at home, and examining every article with great inquisitiveness.
When they got close to the chief, he showed signs of extreme surprise and joy, clapping his hands, slapping his thighs and chest, and laughing loudly. His followers joined in the laughter, and for a few minutes, the noise was so overwhelming that it was practically deafening. Once things quieted down, Captain Guy ordered the boats to be pulled up as a safety measure, and let the chief (whose name we soon learned was Too-wit) know that we could only allow twenty of his men on deck at a time. He seemed perfectly fine with this arrangement and gave some instructions to the canoes, while one of them came closer, the others staying about fifty yards away. Twenty of the tribe members then boarded and began exploring every part of the deck and climbing around the rigging, making themselves at home and examining everything with great curiosity.
It was quite evident that they had never before seen any of the white race—from whose complexion, indeed, they appeared to recoil. They believed the Jane to be a living creature, and seemed to be afraid of hurting it with the points of their spears, carefully turning them up. Our crew were much amused with the conduct of Too-wit in one instance. The cook was splitting some wood near the galley, and, by accident, struck his axe into the deck, making a gash of considerable depth. The chief immediately ran up, and pushing the cook on one side rather roughly, commenced a half whine, half howl, strongly indicative of sympathy in what he considered the sufferings of the schooner, patting and smoothing the gash with his hand, and washing it from a bucket of seawater which stood by. This was a degree of ignorance for which we were not prepared, and for my part I could not help thinking some of it affected.
It was clear they had never seen anyone from the white race before—indeed, they seemed to shrink back from our skin color. They thought the Jane was a living thing and appeared scared of accidentally hurting it with their spears, carefully turning the points away. Our crew found Too-wit’s behavior amusing in one instance. The cook was chopping wood near the galley and accidentally struck his axe into the deck, leaving a deep gash. The chief rushed over, roughly pushed the cook aside, and started making a half whine, half howl that showed he sympathized with what he thought were the schooner's injuries, patting and smoothing the cut with his hand and rinsing it with seawater from a bucket nearby. This level of misunderstanding caught us off guard, and I couldn’t help but think some of it was just for show.
When the visiters had satisfied, as well as they could, their curiosity in regard to our upper works, they were admitted below, when their amazement exceeded all bounds. Their astonishment now appeared to be far too deep for words, for they roamed about in silence, broken only by low ejaculations. The arms afforded them much food for speculation, and they were suffered to handle and examine them at leisure. I do not believe that they had the least suspicion of their actual use, but rather took them for idols, seeing the care we had of them, and the attention with which we watched their movements while handling them. At the great guns their wonder was redoubled. They approached them with every mark of the profoundest reverence and awe, but forbore to examine them minutely. There were two large mirrors in the cabin, and here was the acme of their amazement. Too-wit was the first to approach them, and he had got in the middle of the cabin, with his face to one and his back to the other, before he fairly perceived them. Upon raising his eyes and seeing his reflected self in the glass, I thought the savage would go mad; but, upon turning short round to make a retreat, and beholding himself a second time in the opposite direction, I was afraid he would expire upon the spot. No persuasions could prevail upon him to take another look; but, throwing himself upon the floor, with his face buried in his hands, he remained thus until we were obliged to drag him upon deck.
When the visitors had satisfied their curiosity about our upper works as best they could, they were allowed below, where their amazement reached new heights. Their astonishment seemed to be too profound for words, as they wandered in silence, occasionally expressing their surprise in quiet exclamations. The weapons gave them plenty to think about, and they were allowed to handle and examine them at their leisure. I don’t think they suspected their actual purpose, but rather saw them as idols, given the care we took of them and how closely we watched them while they handled the items. Their wonder only grew at the sight of the large cannons. They approached them with the utmost reverence and awe but refrained from examining them closely. There were two large mirrors in the cabin, and that was where their amazement peaked. Too-wit was the first to come near them, and he had gotten to the middle of the cabin, facing one mirror and turning his back to the other, before he really noticed them. When he raised his eyes and saw his reflection in the glass, I thought he might go mad; but as he quickly turned to leave and saw himself a second time in the other direction, I feared he might faint on the spot. No amount of persuasion could convince him to take another look; instead, he threw himself on the floor with his face buried in his hands and stayed that way until we had to drag him back on deck.
The whole of the savages were admitted on board in this manner, twenty at a time, Too-wit being suffered to remain during the entire period. We saw no disposition to thievery among them, nor did we miss a single article after their departure. Throughout the whole of their visit they evinced the most friendly manner. There were, however, some points in their demeanour which we found it impossible to understand: for example, we could not get them to approach several very harmless objects—such as the schooner's sails, an egg, an open book, or a pan of flour. We endeavoured to ascertain if they had among them any articles which might be turned to account in the way of traffic, but found great difficulty in being comprehended. We made out, nevertheless, what greatly astonished us, that the islands abounded in the large tortoise of the Gallipagos, one of which we saw in the canoe of Too-wit. We saw also some biche de mer in the hands of one of the savages, who was greedily devouring it in its natural state. These anomalies, for they were such when considered in regard to the latitude, induced Captain Guy to wish for a thorough investigation of the country, in the hope of making a profitable speculation in his discovery. For my own part, anxious as I was to know something more of these islands, I was still more earnestly bent on prosecuting the voyage to the southward without delay. We had now fine weather, but there was no telling how long it would last; and being already in the eighty-fourth parallel, with an open sea before us, a current setting strongly to the southward, and the wind fair, I could not listen with any patience to a proposition of stopping longer than was absolutely necessary for the health of the crew and the taking on board a proper supply of fuel and fresh provisions. I represented to the captain that we might easily make this group on our return, and winter here in the event of being blocked up by the ice. He at length came into my views (for in some way, hardly known to myself, I had acquired much influence over him), and it was finally resolved that, even in the event of our finding biche de mer, we should only stay here a week to recruit, and then push on to the southward while we might. Accordingly we made every necessary preparation, and, under the guidance of Too-wit, got the Jane through the reef in safety, coming to anchor about a mile from the shore, in an excellent bay, completely landlocked, on the southeastern coast of the main island, and in ten fathoms of water, black sandy bottom. At the head of this bay there were three fine springs (we were told) of good water, and we saw abundance of wood in the vicinity. The four canoes followed us in, keeping, however, at a respectful distance. Too-wit himself remained on board, and, upon our dropping anchor, invited us to accompany him on shore, and visit his village in the interior. To this Captain Guy consented; and ten savages being left on board as hostages, a party of us, twelve in all, got in readiness to attend the chief. We took care to be well armed, yet without evincing any distrust. The schooner had her guns run out, her boarding-nettings up, and every other proper precaution was taken to guard against surprise. Directions were left with the chief mate to admit no person on board during our absence, and, in the event of our not appearing in twelve hours, to send the cutter, with a swivel, round the island in search of us.
The entire group of natives was allowed on board this way, twenty at a time, with Too-wit staying for the whole time. We didn’t see any sign of theft among them, nor did we miss anything after they left. Throughout their visit, they were very friendly. However, there were some things about their behavior that we couldn’t understand: for instance, we couldn’t get them to approach several harmless objects—like the schooner's sails, an egg, an open book, or a pan of flour. We tried to find out if they had any items we could trade, but we struggled to communicate. Nevertheless, we figured out, to our surprise, that the islands were full of the large tortoise from the Galapagos, one of which we saw in Too-wit's canoe. We also saw some biche de mer in the hands of one native, who was eagerly eating it raw. These oddities, especially given the location, made Captain Guy want to thoroughly explore the area, hopeful of making a profitable discovery. For my part, although I was eager to learn more about these islands, I was even more determined to continue our voyage south without delay. The weather was nice, but it was unpredictable; and since we were already at the eighty-fourth parallel, with open sea ahead, a strong current pushing south, and the wind in our favor, I couldn’t bear the thought of staying longer than absolutely necessary for the crew's health and to take on enough fuel and fresh supplies. I pointed out to the captain that we could easily return to this group and spend the winter here if we got stuck in ice. He eventually agreed with me (for some reason, I had gained quite a bit of influence over him), and we decided that even if we found biche de mer, we would only stay for a week to rest and then head south while we could. So we made all necessary preparations, and under Too-wit's guidance, we safely navigated the Jane through the reef, anchoring about a mile from the shore in a great bay that was totally landlocked, on the southeastern coast of the main island, in ten fathoms of water with a black sandy bottom. At the head of this bay, we were told, there were three good springs of fresh water, and we saw lots of wood nearby. The four canoes followed us in, staying at a respectful distance. Too-wit remained on board and, when we dropped anchor, invited us to come ashore and visit his village in the interior. Captain Guy agreed, and with ten natives left on board as hostages, a group of us, twelve in total, got ready to go with the chief. We made sure we were well-armed but didn’t show any distrust. The schooner had her guns ready, boarding nets up, and we took all the right precautions to guard against surprises. We told the first mate to let no one on board while we were gone, and if we didn’t return in twelve hours, to send the cutter, with a swivel gun, around the island to look for us.
At every step we took inland the conviction forced itself upon us that we were in a country differing essentially from any hitherto visited by civilized men. We saw nothing with which we had been formerly conversant. The trees resembled no growth of either the torrid, the temperate, or the northern frigid zones, and were altogether unlike those of the lower southern latitudes we had already traversed. The very rocks were novel in their mass, their colour, and their stratification; and the streams themselves, utterly incredible as it may appear, had so little in common with those of other climates, that we were scrupulous of tasting them, and, indeed, had difficulty in bringing ourselves to believe that their qualities were purely those of nature. At a small brook which crossed our path (the first we had reached) Too-wit and his attendants halted to drink. On account of the singular character of the water, we refused to taste it, supposing it to be polluted; and it was not until some time afterward we came to understand that such was the appearance of the streams throughout the whole group. I am at a loss to give a distinct idea of the nature of this liquid, and cannot do so without many words. Although it flowed with rapidity in all declivities where common water would do so, yet never, except when falling in a cascade, had it the customary appearance of limpidity. It was, nevertheless, in point of fact, as perfectly limpid as any limestone water in existence, the difference being only in appearance. At first sight, and especially in cases where little declivity was found, it bore resemblance, as regards consistency, to a thick infusion of gum Arabic in common water. But this was only the least remarkable of its extraordinary qualities. It was not colourless, nor was it of any one uniform colour—presenting to the eye, as it flowed, every possible shade of purple, like the hues of a changeable silk. This variation in shade was produced in a manner which excited as profound astonishment in the minds of our party as the mirror had done in the case of Too-wit. Upon collecting a basinful, and allowing it to settle thoroughly, we perceived that the whole mass of liquid was made up of a number of distinct veins, each of a distinct hue; that these veins did not commingle; and that their cohesion was perfect in regard to their own particles among themselves, and imperfect in regard to neighbouring veins. Upon passing the blade of a knife athwart the veins, the water closed over it immediately, as with us, and also, in withdrawing it, all traces of the passage of the knife were instantly obliterated. If, however, the blade was passed down accurately between two veins, a perfect separation was effected, which the power of cohesion did not immediately rectify. The phenomena of this water formed the first definite link in that vast chain of apparent miracles with which I was destined to be at length encircled.
At every step we took inland, we felt more convinced that we were in a country completely different from any we had visited before. Everything looked unfamiliar. The trees didn’t resemble anything from the tropical, temperate, or northern frigid zones, nor were they like those from the lower southern latitudes we had already crossed. The rocks were unique in their size, color, and layering, and the streams, incredible as it may seem, had so little in common with those from other climates that we hesitated to taste them, and honestly found it hard to believe their qualities were purely natural. At a small brook that crossed our path (the first we encountered), Too-wit and his group stopped to drink. Because the water looked strange, we refused to taste it, thinking it might be contaminated; it wasn’t until later that we realized this was the typical appearance of streams throughout the entire area. It’s hard to describe this liquid clearly without using a lot of words. Although it flowed quickly wherever regular water would, it never looked clear like usual water, except when it cascaded down. Yet, it was actually as clear as any limestone water out there; the only difference was in appearance. At first glance, especially in places with little slope, it looked thick like a strong mixture of gum Arabic in regular water. But that was just the least remarkable of its strange qualities. It was not colorless, nor did it have a single uniform color—flowing before our eyes in every shade of purple, like the colors of changeable silk. This variation in color amazed us just as much as the mirror had amazed Too-wit. When we collected a basinful and let it settle completely, we saw that the entire liquid was made up of distinct veins, each with its own color; these veins didn’t mix, and their cohesion was perfect among themselves but imperfect with neighboring veins. When we passed a knife blade through the veins, the water instantly closed over it, and all traces of the blade were quickly erased. However, if the blade was slid accurately between two veins, perfect separation occurred, which the cohesive force didn’t immediately fix. The properties of this water were the first clear sign in the vast chain of apparent miracles that I would later encounter.
CHAPTER XIX.
We were nearly three hours in reaching the village, it being more than nine miles in the interior, and the path lying through a rugged country. As we passed along, the party of Too-wit (the whole hundred and ten savages of the canoes) was momentarily strengthened by smaller detachments, of from two to six or seven, which joined us, as if by accident, at different turns in the road. There appeared so much of system in this that I could not help feeling distrust, and I spoke to Captain Guy of my apprehensions. It was now too late, however, to recede, and we concluded that our best security lay in evincing a perfect confidence in the good faith of Too-wit. We accordingly went on, keeping a wary eye upon the manoeuvres of the savages, and not permitting them to divide our numbers by pushing in between. In this way, passing through a precipitous ravine, we at length reached what we were told was the only collection of habitations upon the island. As we came in sight of them, the chief set up a shout, and frequently repeated the word Klock-Klock; which we supposed to be the name of the village, or perhaps the generic name for villages.
We spent almost three hours getting to the village, which was more than nine miles inland, with the path going through a rough area. As we went along, the group from Too-wit (all one hundred and ten natives in the canoes) was gradually joined by smaller groups of two to seven, who seemed to join us by chance at various points along the way. There seemed to be so much organization in this that I couldn’t help but feel suspicious, and I mentioned my concerns to Captain Guy. However, it was too late to turn back, and we decided that our best protection was to show complete trust in Too-wit. So, we moved forward, keeping a close watch on the natives’ movements, making sure they didn’t break up our group by slipping in between us. In this way, after passing through a steep ravine, we finally arrived at what we were told was the only settlement on the island. As we caught sight of it, the chief shouted and repeatedly called out the word Klock-Klock; which we assumed was the name of the village, or maybe a general term for villages.
The dwellings were of the most miserable description imaginable, and, unlike those of even the lowest of the savage races with which mankind are acquainted, were of no uniform plan. Some of them (and these we found belonged to the Wampoos or Yampoos, the great men of the land) consisted of a tree cut down at about four feet from the root, with a large black skin thrown over it, and hanging in loose folds upon the ground. Under this the savage nestled. Others were formed by means of rough limbs of trees, with the withered foliage upon them, made to recline, at an angle of forty-five degrees, against a bank of clay, heaped up, without regular form, to the height of five or six feet. Others, again, were mere holes dug in the earth perpendicularly, and covered over with similar branches, these being removed when the tenant was about to enter, and pulled on again when he had entered. A few were built among the forked limbs of trees as they stood, the upper limbs being partially cut through, so as to bend over upon the lower, thus forming thicker shelter from the weather. The greater number, however, consisted of small shallow caverns, apparently scratched in the face of a precipitous ledge of dark stone, resembling fuller's earth, with which three sides of the village was bounded. At the door of each of these primitive caverns was a small rock, which the tenant carefully placed before the entrance upon leaving his residence, for what purpose I could not ascertain, as the stone itself was never of sufficient size to close up more than a third of the opening.
The homes were as miserable as you can imagine. Unlike even the most basic shelters of other savage races known to humanity, they had no consistent design. Some of them (which turned out to belong to the Wampoos or Yampoos, the prominent figures of the area) were just a tree cut down about four feet from the ground, with a large black skin draped over it, hanging loosely on the ground. The savage would nestle underneath this. Others were made from rough tree branches, with dried leaves on them, leaning at a forty-five-degree angle against a clay bank, piled up irregularly to about five or six feet tall. Some were simply holes dug straight into the ground, covered with similar branches, which were removed when the person wanted to enter and put back when they were inside. A few were built in the forked branches of trees, with the upper branches partially cut to bend over the lower ones, creating a thicker shelter from the weather. Most, though, were small shallow caves that looked like they had been scratched into the steep face of a dark stone ledge, which formed three sides of the village. At the entrance of each of these primitive caves was a small rock, which the occupant would carefully place in front of the door when leaving, although I couldn't figure out why, since the stone was never big enough to cover more than a third of the opening.
This village, if it were worthy of the name, lay in a valley of some depth, and could only be approached from the southward, the precipitous ledge of which I have already spoken cutting off all access in other directions. Through the middle of the valley ran a brawling stream of the same magical-looking water which has been described. We saw several strange animals about the dwellings, all appearing to be thoroughly domesticated. The largest of these creatures resembled our common hog in the structure of the body and snout; the tail, however, was bushy, and the legs slender as those of the antelope. Its motion was exceedingly awkward and indecisive, and we never saw it attempt to run. We noticed also several animals very similar in appearance, but of a greater length of body, and covered with a black wool. There were a great variety of tame fowls running about, and these seemed to constitute the chief food of the natives. To our astonishment we saw black albatross among these birds in a state of entire domestication, going to sea periodically for food, but always returning to the village as a home, and using the southern shore in the vicinity as a place of incubation. There they were joined by their friends the pelicans as usual, but these latter never followed them to the dwellings of the savages. Among the other kinds of tame fowls were ducks, differing very little from the canvass-back of our own country, black gannets, and a large bird not unlike the buzzard in appearance, but not carnivorous. Of fish there seemed to be a great abundance. We saw, during our visit, a quantity of dried salmon, rock cod, blue dolphins, mackerel, blackfish, skate, conger eels, elephant-fish, mullets, soles, parrotfish, leather-jackets, gurnards, hake, flounders, paracutas, and innumerable other varieties. We noticed, too, that most of them were similar to the fish about the group of the Lord Auckland Islands, in a latitude as low as fifty-one degrees south. The Gallipago tortoise was also very plentiful. We saw but few wild animals, and none of a large size, or of a species with which we were familiar. One or two serpents of a formidable aspect crossed our path, but the natives paid them little attention, and we concluded that they were not venomous.
This village, if it could truly be called one, was nestled in a deep valley and could only be accessed from the south, as a steep cliff blocked all other directions. A lively stream of the same magical-looking water I mentioned earlier flowed through the middle of the valley. We spotted several strange animals near the homes, all looking completely domesticated. The largest of these creatures looked like a regular pig in body and snout shape, but its tail was bushy and its legs were slim like an antelope’s. Its movements were very clumsy and hesitant, and we never saw it try to run. We also noticed a few similar animals that were longer and covered in black wool. There were many tame birds roaming around, which seemed to be the main food source for the locals. To our surprise, we saw black albatrosses among these birds, completely domesticated, going out to sea for food but always returning to the village as their home, using the southern shore nearby for nesting. They were joined there by their friends the pelicans, although the pelicans never followed them back to the villagers' homes. Other types of tame birds included ducks that looked almost like our own canvass-backs, black gannets, and a large bird resembling a buzzard but not carnivorous. There seemed to be plenty of fish. During our visit, we saw a variety of dried fish, including salmon, rock cod, blue dolphins, mackerel, blackfish, skate, conger eels, elephant-fish, mullets, soles, parrotfish, leather-jackets, gurnards, hake, flounders, paracutas, and countless other types. We also noticed that most of them were similar to the fish found around the Lord Auckland Islands, located at a latitude as low as fifty-one degrees south. The Gallipago tortoise was also quite plentiful. We encountered only a few wild animals, none of which were large or familiar to us. We did see one or two snakes that looked intimidating crossing our path, but the locals seemed unconcerned, leading us to believe they weren't venomous.
As we approached the village with Too-wit and his party, a vast crowd of the people rushed out to meet us, with loud shouts, among which we could only distinguish the everlasting Anamoo-moo! and Lama-Lama! We were much surprised at perceiving that, with one or two exceptions, these new comers were entirely naked, the skins being used only by the men of the canoes. All the weapons of the country seemed also to be in the possession of the latter, for there was no appearance of any among the villagers. There were a great many women and children, the former not altogether wanting in what might be termed personal beauty. They were straight, tall, and well formed, with a grace and freedom of carriage not to be found in civilized society. Their lips, however, like those of the men, were thick and clumsy, so that, even when laughing, the teeth were never disclosed. Their hair was of a finer texture than that of the males. Among these naked villagers there might have been ten or twelve who were clothed, like the party of Too-wit, in dresses of black skin, and armed with lances and heavy clubs. These appeared to have great influence among the rest, and were always addressed by the title Wampoo. These, too, were the tenants of the black skin palaces. That of Too-wit was situated in the centre of the village, and was much larger and somewhat better constructed than others of its kind. The tree which formed its support was cut off at a distance of twelve feet or thereabout from the root, and there were several branches left just below the cut, these serving to extend the covering, and in this way prevent its flapping about the trunk. The covering, too, which consisted of four very large skins fastened together with wooden skewers, was secured at the bottom with pegs driven through it and into the ground. The floor was strewed with a quantity of dry leaves by way of carpet.
As we got closer to the village with Too-wit and his group, a huge crowd of people rushed out to greet us, shouting loud cheers, among which we could only pick out the familiar Anamoo-moo! and Lama-Lama! We were surprised to see that, with one or two exceptions, these newcomers were completely naked, with the men from the canoes being the only ones wearing skins. All the weapons seemed to be with the men from the canoes, as there was no sign of any among the villagers. There were many women and children; the women had a kind of beauty that was hard to miss. They were tall and well-built, moving with a grace and freedom that you wouldn't find in civilized society. However, like the men, their lips were thick and awkward, so even when they laughed, you couldn't see their teeth. Their hair was finer than the men's. Among these naked villagers, there were about ten or twelve who were dressed like Too-wit's group, in garments made of black skin, and armed with lances and heavy clubs. These people seemed to hold a lot of influence over the others, always being called Wampoo. They were also the occupants of the black skin palaces. Too-wit's palace was located in the center of the village and was considerably larger and better built than the others. The tree holding it up was cut off about twelve feet from the root, with several branches left just below the cut, helping to extend the covering and keep it from flapping against the trunk. The covering, made from four large skins tied together with wooden skewers, was anchored at the bottom with pegs driven into the ground. The floor was covered with a layer of dry leaves as a sort of carpet.
To this hut we were conducted with great solemnity, and as many of the natives crowded in after us as possible. Too-wit seated himself on the leaves, and made signs that we should follow his example. This we did, and presently found ourselves in a situation peculiarly uncomfortable, if not indeed critical. We were on the ground, twelve in number, with the savages, as many as forty, sitting on their hams so closely around us that, if any disturbance had arisen, we should have found it impossible to make use of our arms, or indeed to have risen on our feet. The pressure was not only inside the tent, but outside, where probably was every individual on the whole island, the crowd being prevented from trampling us to death only by the incessant exertions and vociferations of Too-wit. Our chief security lay, however, in the presence of Too-wit himself among us, and we resolved to stick by him closely, as the best chance of extricating ourselves from the dilemma, sacrificing him immediately upon the first appearance of hostile design.
We were taken to this hut with a lot of seriousness, and as many of the locals as possible crowded in after us. Too-wit sat down on the leaves and signaled for us to do the same. So we did, and soon found ourselves in a situation that was particularly uncomfortable, if not downright dangerous. We were on the ground, twelve of us, surrounded by at least forty natives who sat very close around us. If any trouble had started, we wouldn’t have been able to use our weapons or even stand up. The pressure was not just inside the hut, but outside as well, where probably everyone on the entire island was gathered. The crowd was kept from trampling us to death only by Too-wit's constant efforts and loud shouting. Our main safety came from Too-wit being there with us, and we decided to stick by him closely, as it seemed like our best chance to get out of the situation, ready to sacrifice him at the first sign of any hostility.
After some trouble a certain degree of quiet was restored, when the chief addressed us in a speech of great length, and very nearly resembling the one delivered in the canoes, with the exception that the Anamoo-moos! were now somewhat more strenuously insisted upon than the Lama-Lamas! We listened in profound silence until the conclusion of his harangue, when Captain Guy replied by assuring the chief of his eternal friendship and good-will, concluding what he had to say by a present of several strings of blue beads and a knife. At the former the monarch, much to our surprise, turned up his nose with some expression of contempt; but the knife gave him the most unlimited satisfaction, and he immediately ordered dinner. This was handed into the tent over the heads of the attendants, and consisted of the palpitating entrails of a species of unknown animal, probably one of the slim-legged hogs which we had observed in our approach to the village. Seeing us at a loss how to proceed, he began, by way of setting us an example, to devour yard after yard of the enticing food, until we could positively stand it no longer, and evinced such manifest symptoms of rebellion of stomach as inspired his majesty with a degree of astonishment only inferior to that brought about by the looking-glasses. We declined, however, partaking of the delicacies before us, and endeavoured to make him understand that we had no appetite whatever, having just finished a hearty déjeuner.
After some trouble, we managed to bring back a certain level of quiet when the chief addressed us in a lengthy speech, very similar to the one he gave in the canoes, except that the Anamoo-moos! were now emphasized a bit more than the Lama-Lamas! We listened in complete silence until he finished, at which point Captain Guy assured the chief of his everlasting friendship and goodwill, wrapping up his remarks with a gift of several strings of blue beads and a knife. To our surprise, the chief turned up his nose at the beads with an expression of disdain; however, the knife delighted him immensely, and he immediately ordered dinner. This was handed into the tent over the heads of the attendants and consisted of the still-quivering entrails of an unknown animal, likely one of the slim-legged hogs we had seen on our way to the village. Noticing we were unsure how to proceed, he set an example by devouring yards of the tempting food until we could no longer tolerate it, showing such clear signs of stomach rebellion that it left the chief astonished, second only to his reaction to the mirrors. We, however, declined to partake of the delicacies before us and tried to convey that we had no appetite at all, having just finished a hearty déjeuner.
When the monarch had made an end of his meal, we commenced a series of cross-questioning in every ingenious manner we could devise, with a view of discovering what were the chief productions of the country, and whether any of them might be turned to profit. At length he seemed to have some idea of our meaning, and offered to accompany us to a part of the coast where he assured us the biche de mer (pointing to a specimen of that animal) was to be found in great abundance. We were glad at this early opportunity of escaping from the oppression of the crowd, and signified our eagerness to proceed. We now left the tent, and, accompanied by the whole population of the village, followed the chief to the southeastern extremity of the island, not far from the bay where our vessel lay at anchor. We waited here for about an hour, until the four canoes were brought round by some of the savages to our station. The whole of our party then getting into one of them, we were paddled along the edge of the reef before mentioned, and of another still farther out, where we saw a far greater quantity of biche de mer than the oldest seaman among us had ever seen in those groups of the lower latitudes most celebrated for this article of commerce. We stayed near these reefs only long enough to satisfy ourselves that we could easily load a dozen vessels with the animal if necessary, when we were taken alongside the schooner, and parted with Too-wit after obtaining from him a promise that he would bring us, in the course of twenty-four hours, as many of the canvass-back ducks and Gallipago tortoises as his canoes would hold. In the whole of this adventure we saw nothing in the demeanour of the natives calculated to create suspicion, with the single exception of the systematic manner in which their party was strengthened during our route from the schooner to the village.
When the king finished his meal, we started asking a series of questions in every clever way we could think of, hoping to find out what the main resources of the country were and if any of them could be profitable. Eventually, he seemed to grasp our intent and offered to take us to a part of the coast where he assured us the biche de mer (pointing to a specimen of that creature) was abundant. We were pleased at this chance to escape the crowd, so we expressed our eagerness to go. We left the tent, now accompanied by the entire village, as we followed the chief to the southeastern tip of the island, not far from the bay where our ship was anchored. We waited there for about an hour until the four canoes were brought over by some of the locals. Our group then got into one of the canoes, and we paddled along the edge of the aforementioned reef and another one even further out, where we saw a much larger amount of biche de mer than the most experienced sailor among us had ever seen in those lower latitude areas famous for this type of trade. We stayed near these reefs just long enough to confirm that we could easily fill a dozen boats with the creatures if needed, after which we were taken back to the schooner and said goodbye to Too-wit after getting his promise that he would bring us as many canvas-back ducks and Galapagos tortoises as his canoes could carry within the next twenty-four hours. Throughout this adventure, we didn’t see anything in the natives' behavior that raised suspicion, except for the organized way their group grew as we traveled from the schooner to the village.
CHAPTER XX.
The chief was as good as his word, and we were soon plentifully supplied with fresh provision. We found the tortoises as fine as we had ever seen, and the ducks surpassed our best species of wild fowl, being exceedingly tender, juicy, and well-flavoured. Besides these, the savages brought us, upon our making them comprehend our wishes, a vast quantity of brown celery and scurvy grass, with a canoe-load of fresh fish and some dried. The celery was a treat indeed, and the scurvy grass proved of incalculable benefit in restoring those of our men who had shown symptoms of disease. In a very short time we had not a single person on the sick-list. We had also plenty of other kinds of fresh provision, among which may be mentioned a species of shellfish resembling the muscle in shape, but with the taste of an oyster. Shrimps, too, and prawns were abundant, and albatross and other birds' eggs with dark shells. We took in, too, a plentiful stock of the flesh of the hog which I have mentioned before. Most of the men found it a palatable food, but I thought it fishy and otherwise disagreeable. In return for these good things we presented the natives with blue beads, brass trinkets, nails, knives, and pieces of red cloth, they being fully delighted in the exchange. We established a regular market on shore, just under the guns of the schooner, where our barterings were carried on with every appearance of good faith, and a degree of order which their conduct at the village of Klock-klock had not led us to expect from the savages.
The chief kept his promise, and we quickly had plenty of fresh supplies. The tortoises were among the best we'd ever seen, and the ducks were even better than our top types of wild fowl, extremely tender, juicy, and flavorful. In addition to these, the natives brought us, once we made them understand our needs, a huge amount of brown celery and scurvy grass, along with a canoe-load of fresh and some dried fish. The celery was a real treat, and the scurvy grass helped immensely in restoring those of our men who had shown signs of illness. In no time, we had no one left on the sick list. We also had a variety of other fresh food, including a type of shellfish that looked like mussels but tasted like oysters. Shrimp and prawns were plentiful, along with albatross and other birds' eggs with dark shells. We also stocked up on the pork I mentioned earlier. Most of the men enjoyed it as food, but I found it a bit fishy and otherwise unappealing. In exchange for these goodies, we gave the natives blue beads, brass trinkets, nails, knives, and pieces of red cloth, which they were thrilled to receive. We set up a regular market on shore, right under the guns of the schooner, where our trading was conducted with a show of good faith and a level of order we hadn't expected from the natives based on their behavior at the village of Klock-klock.
Matters went on thus very amicably for several days, during which parties of the natives were frequently on board the schooner, and parties of our men frequently on shore, making long excursions into the interior, and receiving no molestation whatever. Finding the ease with which the vessel might be loaded with biche de mer, owing to the friendly disposition of the islanders, and the readiness with which they would render us assistance in collecting it, Captain Guy resolved to enter into negotiation with Too-wit for the erection of suitable houses in which to cure the article, and for the services of himself and tribe in gathering as much as possible, while he himself took advantage of the fine weather to prosecute his voyage to the southward. Upon mentioning this project to the chief he seemed very willing to enter into an agreement. A bargain was accordingly struck, perfectly satisfactory to both parties, by which it was arranged that, after making the necessary preparations, such as laying off the proper grounds, erecting a portion of the buildings, and doing some other work in which the whole of our crew would be required, the schooner should proceed on her route, leaving three of her men on the island to superintend the fulfilment of the project, and instruct the natives in drying the biche de mer. In regard to terms, these were made to depend upon the exertions of the savages in our absence. They were to receive a stipulated quantity of blue beads, knives, red cloth, and so forth, for every certain number of piculs of the biche de mer which should be ready on our return.
Things went along quite smoothly for several days, during which groups of the locals often visited the schooner and our crew frequently went ashore, taking long trips into the interior without any trouble. Noticing how easy it was to load the vessel with biche de mer because of the islanders' friendly attitude and their willingness to help us collect it, Captain Guy decided to negotiate with Too-wit about building suitable houses for processing it and getting the help of him and his tribe to gather as much as possible, while he took advantage of the good weather to continue his journey south. When he mentioned this plan to the chief, Too-wit seemed eager to agree. A deal was made that was completely satisfactory to both sides, arranging that after making the necessary preparations, like laying out the proper grounds, constructing part of the buildings, and completing some other tasks that would need the entire crew, the schooner would continue on her route, leaving three men on the island to oversee the project and teach the locals how to dry the biche de mer. As for the terms, these would depend on the efforts of the locals in our absence. They would receive a specific amount of blue beads, knives, red cloth, and other goods for every certain quantity of biche de mer that would be ready when we returned.
A description of the nature of this important article of commerce, and the method of preparing it, may prove of some interest to my readers, and I can find no more suitable place than this for introducing an account of it. The following comprehensive notice of the substance is taken from a modern history of a voyage to the South Seas.
A description of what this important product is and how to prepare it might be interesting to my readers, and I can't think of a better place to share this information. The following detailed overview of the substance is taken from a contemporary account of a journey to the South Seas.
"It is that mollusca from the Indian Seas which is known in commerce by the French name bouche de mer (a nice morsel from the sea). If I am not much mistaken, the celebrated Cuvier calls it gasteropeda pulmonifera. It is abundantly gathered in the coasts of the Pacific Islands, and gathered especially for the Chinese market, where it commands a great price, perhaps as much as their much-talked of edible bird's nests, which are probably made up of the gelatinous matter picked up by a species of swallow from the body of these molluscæ. They have no shell, no legs, nor any prominent part, except an absorbing and an excretory, opposite organs; but, by their elastic wings, like caterpillars or worms, they creep in shallow waters, in which, when low, they can be seen by a kind of swallow, the sharp bill of which, inserted in the soft animal, draws a gummy and filamentous substance, which, by drying, can be wrought into the solid walls of their nest. Hence the name of gasteropeda pulmonifera.
It’s that mollusca from the Indian Seas known in trade by the French name bouche de mer (a nice morsel from the sea). If I'm not mistaken, the famous Cuvier refers to it as gasteropeda pulmonifera. It's widely collected along the coasts of the Pacific Islands, especially for the Chinese market, where it fetches a high price—maybe even as much as the much-discussed edible bird's nests, which are likely made from the gelatinous material gathered by a type of swallow from the bodies of these mollusks. They have no shell, no legs, and no prominent parts, other than an absorbing and an excretory organ. However, with their flexible wings, similar to caterpillars or worms, they move through shallow waters, where they can be spotted when the water is low. A kind of swallow uses its sharp bill to extract a gummy, filamentous substance from the soft animal, which hardens when dried and can be used to construct the solid walls of their nests. Hence the name gasteropeda pulmonifera.
"This mollusca is oblong, and of different sizes, from three to eighteen inches in length; and I have seen a few that were not less than two feet long. They are nearly round, a little flattish on one side, which lies next the bottom of the sea; and they are from one to eight inches thick. They crawl up into shallow water at particular seasons of the year, probably for the purpose of gendering, as we often find them in pairs. It is when the sun has the most power on the water, rendering it tepid, that they approach the shore; and they often go up into places so shallow, that, on the tide's receding, they are left dry, exposed to the heat of the sun. But they do not bring forth their young in shallow water, as we never see any of their progeny, and the full-grown ones are always observed coming in from deep water. They feed principally on that class of zoophytes which produce the coral.
This mollusk is oblong and varies in size from three to eighteen inches long, with a few I've seen reaching up to two feet. They are almost round, slightly flattened on one side, which rests on the sea floor, and they are between one to eight inches thick. They move into shallow water at certain times of the year, likely for mating, as they are often found in pairs. They tend to approach the shore when the sun is strongest, warming the water, and sometimes they venture into areas so shallow that they are left dry when the tide goes out, exposed to the sun's heat. However, they don't give birth in shallow water, as we never see their young there, and the adults are always seen coming in from deeper waters. They primarily feed on the type of zoophytes that create coral.
"The biche de mer is generally taken in three or four feet water; after which they are brought on shore, and split at one end with a knife, the incision being one inch or more, according to the size of the mollusca. Through this opening the entrails are forced out by pressure, and they are much like those of any other small tenant of the deep. The article is then washed, and afterward boiled to a certain degree, which must not be too much or too little. They are then buried in the ground for four hours, then boiled again for a short time, after which they are dried, either by the fire or the sun. Those cured by the sun are worth the most; but where one picul (1331/3 lbs.) can be cured that way, I can cure thirty piculs by the fire. When once properly cured, they can be kept in a dry place for two or three years without any risk; but they should be examined once in every few months, say four times a year, to see if any dampness is likely to affect them.
The biche de mer is usually found in three to four feet of water. After being collected, they are brought to shore and cut open at one end with a knife, making an incision of about an inch or more, depending on the size of the mollusk. Through this opening, the entrails are squeezed out by pressure, and they resemble those of other small sea creatures. The product is then rinsed and boiled to a precise level, not too much or too little. After that, they are buried in the ground for four hours, boiled again briefly, and then dried either over a fire or in the sun. Those dried in the sun are the most valuable; however, while one picul (1331/3 lbs.) can be dried that way, I can dry thirty piculs over the fire. When properly dried, they can be stored in a dry place for two to three years without any issues, but they should be checked every few months, around four times a year, to ensure that moisture doesn't affect them.
"The Chinese, as before stated, consider biche de mer a very great luxury, believing that it wonderfully strengthens and nourishes the system, and renews the exhausted system of the immoderate voluptuary. The first quality commands a high price in Canton, being worth ninety dollars a picul; the second quality seventy-five dollars; the third fifty dollars; the fourth thirty dollars; the fifth twenty dollars; the sixth twelve dollars; the seventh eight dollars; and the eighth four dollars; small cargoes, however, will often bring more in Manilla, Singapore, and Batavia."
The Chinese, as mentioned earlier, view biche de mer as a significant luxury, believing it greatly strengthens and nourishes the body and rejuvenates those who indulge excessively. The highest quality sells for a steep price in Canton, worth ninety dollars per picul; the second quality is seventy-five dollars; the third is fifty dollars; the fourth is thirty dollars; the fifth is twenty dollars; the sixth is twelve dollars; the seventh is eight dollars; and the eighth is four dollars. However, small shipments often sell for more in Manila, Singapore, and Batavia.
An agreement having been thus entered into, we proceeded immediately to land everything necessary for preparing the buildings and clearing the ground. A large flat space near the eastern shore of the bay was selected, where there was plenty both of wood and water, and within a convenient distance of the principal reefs on which the biche de mer was to be procured. We now all set to work in good earnest, and soon, to the great astonishment of the savages, had felled a sufficient number of trees for our purpose, getting them quickly in order for the framework of the houses, which in two or three days were so far under way that we could safely trust the rest of the work to the three men whom we intended to leave behind. These were John Carson, Alfred Harris, and —— Peterson (all natives of London, I believe), who volunteered their services in this respect.
Once we came to an agreement, we immediately started bringing in everything needed to prepare the buildings and clear the land. We chose a large flat area near the eastern shore of the bay, where there was plenty of wood and water, and it was conveniently close to the main reefs where we could gather the biche de mer. Everyone got to work quickly, and before long, much to the amazement of the locals, we had cut down enough trees for our needs and organized them for the framework of the houses. Within two or three days, we had made enough progress that we could confidently leave the rest of the work to the three men we intended to stay behind. These were John Carson, Alfred Harris, and —— Peterson (all natives of London, I believe), who offered to help out with this.
By the last of the month we had everything in readiness for departure. We had agreed, however, to pay a formal visit of leavestaking to the village, and Too-wit insisted so pertinaciously upon our keeping the promise, that we did not think it advisable to run the risk of offending him by a final refusal. I believe that not one of us had at this time the slightest suspicion of the good faith of the savages. They had uniformly behaved with the greatest decorum, aiding us with alacrity in our work, offering us their commodities frequently without price, and never, in any instance, pilfering a single article, although the high value they set upon the goods we had with us was evident by the extravagant demonstrations of joy always manifested upon our making them a present. The women especially were most obliging in every respect, and, upon the whole, we should have been the most suspicious of human beings had we entertained a single thought of perfidy on the part of a people who treated us so well. A very short while sufficed to prove that this apparent kindness of disposition was only the result of a deeply-laid plan for our destruction, and that the islanders for whom we entertained such inordinate feelings of esteem were among the most barbarous, subtle, and bloodthirsty wretches that ever contaminated the face of the globe.
By the end of the month, we had everything ready for departure. However, we had agreed to make a formal farewell visit to the village, and Too-wit insisted so strongly that we keep that promise that we didn’t think it wise to risk offending him by saying no. I believe none of us had the slightest suspicion at that time about the true intentions of the natives. They had always acted with great decorum, helping us eagerly with our work, frequently offering us their goods for free, and never once stealing anything, even though it was clear they highly valued our possessions based on their extravagant displays of joy whenever we gave them gifts. The women, in particular, were very accommodating in every way, and overall, we would have been the most suspicious people alive if we had entertained even the slightest thought of betrayal from a group that treated us so well. It took only a short time to reveal that this seemingly friendly behavior was merely part of a carefully crafted plan for our destruction, and that the islanders whom we held in such high regard were among the most savage, cunning, and bloodthirsty individuals ever to soil the earth.
It was on the first of February that we went on shore for the purpose of visiting the village. Although, as said before, we entertained not the slightest suspicion, still no proper precaution was neglected. Six men were left in the schooner with instructions to permit none of the savages to approach the vessel during our absence, under any pretence whatever, and to remain constantly on deck. The boarding-nettings were up, the guns double-shotted with grape and canister, and the swivels loaded with canisters of musket-balls. She lay, with her anchor apeak, about a mile from the shore, and no canoe could approach her in any direction without being distinctly seen and exposed to the full fire of our swivels immediately.
It was on February 1st that we went ashore to visit the village. Even though, as previously mentioned, we had no suspicions, we didn’t neglect any necessary precautions. Six men stayed on the schooner with strict orders to stop any of the locals from getting close to the ship while we were gone, no matter what excuse they used, and to stay on deck at all times. The boarding netting was up, the cannons were loaded with grape shots and canisters, and the swivel guns were also loaded with canisters of bullets. The ship was anchored about a mile from the shore, with her anchor raised, which meant no canoe could approach without being clearly seen and vulnerable to our swivel gun fire immediately.
The six men being left on board, our shore-party consisted of thirty-two persons in all. We were armed to the teeth, having with us muskets, pistols, and cutlasses, besides each a long kind of seaman's knife, somewhat resembling the Bowie knife now so much used throughout our western and southern country. A hundred of the black skin warriors met us at the landing for the purpose of accompanying us on our way. We noticed, however, with some surprise, that they were now entirely without arms; and, upon questioning Too-wit in relation to this circumstance, he merely answered that Mattee non we pa pa si—meaning that there was no need of arms where all were brothers. We took this in good part, and proceeded.
With six men left on board, our shore party had a total of thirty-two people. We were fully armed with muskets, pistols, and cutlasses, along with each of us carrying a long kind of sailor’s knife that looked a bit like the Bowie knife popular today in our western and southern regions. A hundred black-skinned warriors met us at the landing to accompany us on our journey. We were a bit surprised to see that they were completely unarmed, and when we asked Too-wit about it, he simply said Mattee non we pa pa si—which meant there was no need for weapons among brothers. We took this in stride and moved on.
We had passed the spring and rivulet of which I before spoke, and were now entering upon a narrow gorge leading through the chain of soapstone hills among which the village was situated. This gorge was very rocky and uneven, so much so that it was with no little difficulty we scrambled through it on our first visit to Klock-klock. The whole length of the ravine might have been a mile and a half, or probably two miles. It wound in every possible direction through the hills (having apparently formed, at some remote period, the bed of a torrent), in no instance proceeding more than twenty yards without an abrupt turn. The sides of this dell would have averaged, I am sure, seventy or eighty feet in perpendicular altitude throughout the whole of their extent, and in some portions they arose to an astonishing height, overshadowing the pass so completely that but little of the light of day could penetrate. The general width was about forty feet, and occasionally it diminished so as not to allow the passage of more than five or six persons abreast. In short, there could be no place in the world better adapted for the consummation of an ambuscade, and it was no more than natural that we should look carefully to our arms as we entered upon it. When I now think of our egregious folly, the chief subject of astonishment seems to be, that we should have ever ventured, under any circumstances, so completely into the power of unknown savages as to permit them to march both before and behind us in our progress through this ravine. Yet such was the order we blindly took up, trusting foolishly to the force of our party, the unarmed condition of Too-wit and his men, the certain efficacy of our fire-arms (whose effect was yet a secret to the natives), and, more than all, to the long-sustained pretension of friendship kept up by these infamous wretches. Five or six of them went on before, as if to lead the way, ostentatiously busying themselves in removing the larger stones and rubbish from the path. Next came our own party. We walked closely together, taking care only to prevent separation. Behind followed the main body of the savages, observing unusual order and decorum.
We had passed the spring and stream I mentioned earlier, and we were now entering a narrow gorge that cut through the chain of soapstone hills where the village was located. This gorge was very rocky and uneven, making it quite difficult for us to navigate during our first visit to Klock-klock. The entire length of the ravine was about a mile and a half, maybe even two miles. It twisted in every direction through the hills, having clearly once been the bed of a torrent at some distant time, never going more than twenty yards without a sharp turn. The sides of this dell averaged around seventy or eighty feet high throughout, and in some areas, they rose to such incredible heights that they completely overshadowed the path, letting in very little light. The overall width was roughly forty feet, and at times it narrowed so much that only five or six people could walk side by side. In short, there could be no better place for an ambush, so it was only natural that we took a careful look at our weapons as we entered. Now, when I think about our foolishness, it's astonishing that we ever ventured so completely into the hands of unknown savages, allowing them to march both in front and behind us as we made our way through this ravine. Yet that was the reckless decision we made, blindly trusting in our numbers, the unarmed state of Too-wit and his men, the supposed effectiveness of our firearms (which the natives were still unaware of), and, more than anything, the long-maintained illusion of friendship projected by those deceitful scoundrels. Five or six of them went ahead, seemingly leading the way and making a show of clearing larger stones and debris from the path. Our group followed closely, sticking together to avoid getting separated. Behind us came the main group of the savages, acting unusually orderly and composed.
Dirk Peters, a man named Wilson Allen, and myself were on the right of our companions, examining, as we went along, the singular stratification of the precipice which overhung us. A fissure in the soft rock attracted our attention. It was about wide enough for one person to enter without squeezing, and extended back into the hill some eighteen or twenty feet in a straight course, sloping afterward to the left. The height of the opening, as far as we could see into it from the main gorge, was perhaps sixty or seventy feet. There were one or two stunted shrubs growing from the crevices, bearing a species of filbert, which I felt some curiosity to examine, and pushed in briskly for that purpose, gathering five or six of the nuts at a grasp, and then hastily retreating. As I turned, I found that Peters and Allen had followed me. I desired them to go back, as there was not room for two persons to pass, saying they should have some of my nuts. They accordingly turned, and were scrambling back, Allen being close to the mouth of the fissure, when I was suddenly aware of a concussion resembling nothing I had ever before experienced, and which impressed me with a vague conception, if indeed I then thought of anything, that the whole foundations of the solid globe were suddenly rent asunder, and that the day of universal dissolution was at hand.
Dirk Peters, a guy named Wilson Allen, and I were to the right of our companions, looking at the unique layers of the cliff above us as we walked. A crack in the soft rock caught our attention. It was wide enough for one person to go in without squeezing and extended back into the hill about eighteen or twenty feet in a straight line, sloping to the left after that. The height of the entrance, as far as we could see from the main gorge, was probably sixty or seventy feet. There were a couple of small shrubs growing from the cracks, producing a type of filbert that I was curious to check out, so I quickly went in to gather five or six of the nuts at a time, then hurried back out. As I turned, I saw that Peters and Allen had followed me. I asked them to go back since there wasn't enough room for two people to pass, telling them they could have some of my nuts. They turned to leave, scrambling back, with Allen close to the entrance of the crack, when I suddenly felt a shock like nothing I had ever experienced before. It gave me a vague sense, if I was even thinking at all, that the very foundations of the earth had been torn apart and that the end of the world was imminent.
CHAPTER XXI.
As soon as I could collect my scattered senses, I found myself nearly suffocated, and grovelling in utter darkness among a quantity of loose earth, which was also falling upon me heavily in every direction, threatening to bury me entirely. Horribly alarmed at this idea, I struggled to gain my feet, and at length succeeded. I then remained motionless for some moments, endeavouring to conceive what had happened to me, and where I was. Presently I heard a deep groan just at my ear, and afterward the smothered voice of Peters calling to me for aid in the name of God. I scrambled one or two paces forward, when I fell directly over the head and shoulders of my companion, who, I soon discovered, was buried in a loose mass of earth as far as his middle, and struggling desperately to free himself from the pressure. I tore the dirt from around him with all the energy I could command, and at length succeeded in getting him out.
As soon as I could gather my scattered thoughts, I found myself nearly suffocated and crawling in complete darkness among a pile of loose dirt, which was heavily falling on me from all sides, threatening to bury me completely. Horrified by this thought, I fought to get on my feet and eventually succeeded. I then stayed still for a few moments, trying to figure out what had happened to me and where I was. Suddenly, I heard a deep groan right by my ear, followed by Peters' muffled voice calling for help in the name of God. I scrambled a few steps forward, only to fall directly on my companion's head and shoulders, who I quickly realized was buried in loose dirt up to his waist and was desperately trying to free himself from the weight. I pulled the dirt away from him with all the strength I could muster, and eventually managed to get him out.
As soon as we sufficiently recovered from our fright and surprise to be capable of conversing rationally, we both came to the conclusion that the walls of the fissure in which we had ventured had, by some convulsion of nature, or probably from their own weight, caved in overhead, and that we were consequently lost for ever, being thus entombed alive. For a long time we gave up supinely to the most intense agony and despair, such as cannot be adequately imagined by those who have never been in a similar situation. I firmly believe that no incident ever occurring in the course of human events is more adapted to inspire the supremeness of mental and bodily distress than a case like our own, of living inhumation. The blackness of darkness which envelops the victim, the terrific oppression of lungs, the stifling fumes from the damp earth, unite with the ghastly considerations that we are beyond the remotest confines of hope, and that such is the allotted portion of the dead, to carry into the human heart a degree of appalling awe and horror not to be tolerated—never to be conceived.
As soon as we recovered from our shock enough to talk reasonably, we both realized that the walls of the fissure we had entered had, due to some natural disaster or perhaps their own weight, collapsed overhead, leaving us lost forever, essentially buried alive. For a long time, we succumbed to the most intense agony and despair, a feeling that is hard to fully grasp for those who have never experienced something similar. I truly believe that no occurrence in human history could inspire such profound mental and physical distress as a situation like ours, of living entombment. The total darkness that surrounds the victim, the crushing pressure on the lungs, the suffocating fumes from the damp earth, combine with the horrifying realization that we were far beyond any hope, and that this was the fate reserved for the dead, inflicting a level of terror and dread on the human heart that is unbearable—impossible to fully imagine.
At length Peters proposed that we should endeavour to ascertain precisely the extent of our calamity, and grope about our prison; it being barely possible, he observed, that some opening might be yet left us for escape. I caught eagerly at this hope, and, arousing myself to exertion, attempted to force my way through the loose earth. Hardly had I advanced a single step before a glimmer of light became perceptible, enough to convince me that, at all events, we should not immediately perish for want of air. We now took some degree of heart, and encouraged each other to hope for the best. Having scrambled over a bank of rubbish which impeded our farther progress in the direction of the light, we found less difficulty in advancing, and also experienced some relief from the excessive oppression of lungs which had tormented us. Presently we were enabled to obtain a glimpse of the objects around, and discovered that we were near the extremity of the straight portion of the fissure, where it made a turn to the left. A few struggles more, and we reached the bend, when, to our inexpressible joy, there appeared a long seam or crack extending upward a vast distance, generally at an angle of about forty-five degrees, although sometimes much more precipitous. We could not see through the whole extent of this opening; but, as a good deal of light came down it, we had little doubt of finding at the top of it (if we could by any means reach the top) a clear passage into the open air.
Finally, Peters suggested that we should try to figure out exactly how bad our situation was and feel around our prison; it was just possible, he noted, that there might still be an opening for us to escape. I eagerly grabbed onto this hope and, motivating myself to take action, started to push my way through the loose earth. Barely had I taken a single step when I saw a glimmer of light, enough to reassure me that we wouldn’t immediately suffocate from lack of air. We began to feel somewhat encouraged and motivated each other to stay hopeful. After climbing over a pile of rubble that blocked our progress towards the light, we found it easier to move forward and also felt some relief from the crushing tightness in our chests. Soon, we could catch a glimpse of our surroundings and realized that we were close to the end of the straight part of the crack, where it turned to the left. After a few more struggles, we reached the bend, and to our immense joy, we discovered a long opening stretching upward at a steep angle, generally about forty-five degrees, although sometimes much steeper. We couldn’t see the end of this opening, but since a lot of light was coming down through it, we had little doubt that if we could reach the top, there would be a way out into the fresh air.
I now called to mind that three of us had entered the fissure from the main gorge, and that our companion, Allen, was still missing; we determined at once to retrace our steps and look for him. After a long search, and much danger from the farther caving in of the earth above us, Peters at length cried out to me that he had hold of our companion's foot, and that his whole body was deeply buried beneath the rubbish, beyond a possibility of extricating him. I soon found that what he said was too true, and that, of course, life had been long extinct. With sorrowful hearts, therefore, we left the corpse to its fate, and again made our way to the bend.
I remembered that three of us had entered the crack from the main gorge, and that our friend, Allen, was still missing; we immediately decided to go back and search for him. After a long search and facing the risk of more earth collapsing above us, Peters finally shouted that he had hold of our friend’s foot, and that his whole body was buried deep under the debris, making it impossible to get him out. I quickly realized that what he said was unfortunately true and that, of course, he had long since passed away. With heavy hearts, we left the body behind and made our way back to the bend.
The breadth of the seam was barely sufficient to admit us, and, after one or two ineffectual efforts at getting up, we began once more to despair. I have before said that the chain of hills through which ran the main gorge was composed of a species of soft rock resembling soapstone. The sides of the cleft we were now attempting to ascend were of the same material, and so excessively slippery, being wet, that we could get but little foothold upon them even in their least precipitous parts; in some places, where the ascent was nearly perpendicular, the difficulty was, of course, much aggravated; and, indeed, for some time we thought it insurmountable. We took courage, however, from despair; and what, by dint of cutting steps in the soft stone with our Bowie knives, and swinging, at the risk of our lives, to small projecting points of a harder species of slaty rock which now and then protruded from the general mass, we at length reached a natural platform, from which was perceptible a patch of blue sky, at the extremity of a thickly-wooded ravine. Looking back now, with somewhat more leisure, at the passage through which we had thus far proceeded, we clearly saw, from the appearance of its sides, that it was of late formation, and we concluded that the concussion, whatever it was, which had so unexpectedly overwhelmed us, had also, at the same moment, laid open this path for escape. Being quite exhausted with exertion, and, indeed, so weak that we were scarcely able to stand or articulate, Peters now proposed that we should endeavour to bring our companions to the rescue by firing the pistols which still remained in our girdles—the muskets as well as cutlasses had been lost among the loose earth at the bottom of the chasm. Subsequent events proved that, had we fired, we should have sorely repented it; but, luckily, a half suspicion of foul play had by this time arisen in my mind, and we forbore to let the savages know of our whereabouts.
The width of the gap was barely wide enough for us to fit through, and after a couple of unsuccessful attempts to climb up, we started to lose hope again. I’ve already mentioned that the chain of hills surrounding the main gorge was made of a type of soft rock similar to soapstone. The walls of the crack we were trying to climb were made of the same material and were extremely slippery because they were wet, which made it hard to find any grip, even in the less steep areas; in some spots, where the climb was almost straight up, it was even harder, and for a while, we thought it was impossible. However, we found some courage in our despair; by cutting steps into the soft stone with our Bowie knives and, risking our lives, swinging to small protruding bits of a harder slate rock that occasionally stuck out from the mass, we finally reached a natural platform where we could see a patch of blue sky at the end of a densely wooded ravine. Looking back now, with a bit more time to reflect, we could clearly tell from the appearance of the sides that this passage was recently formed, and we concluded that whatever sudden disaster had overwhelmed us had also, at that moment, opened up this escape route. Exhausted and so weak we could barely stand or talk, Peters suggested that we try to signal our companions for help by firing the pistols still in our belts—the muskets and cutlasses had been lost in the loose soil at the bottom of the canyon. Later events showed that if we had fired the pistols, we would have deeply regretted it; fortunately, by that point, I had a slight suspicion of foul play and we decided not to reveal our location to the savages.
After having reposed for about an hour, we pushed on slowly up the ravine, and had gone no great way before we heard a succession of tremendous yells. At length we reached what might be called the surface of the ground; for our path hitherto, since leaving the platform, had lain beneath an archway of high rock and foliage, at a vast distance overhead. With great caution we stole to a narrow opening, through which we had a clear sight of the surrounding country, when the whole dreadful secret of the concussion broke upon us in one moment and at one view.
After resting for about an hour, we slowly continued up the ravine, and hadn’t traveled far before we heard a series of loud yells. Eventually, we reached what could be considered the surface of the ground; our path up to that point, since leaving the platform, had been under a high archway of rock and trees far above us. With great care, we approached a narrow opening, through which we had a clear view of the surrounding area, and in that instant, the entire terrifying truth of the noise hit us all at once.
The spot from which we looked was not far from the summit of the highest peak in the range of the soapstone hills. The gorge in which our party of thirty-two had entered ran within fifty feet to the left of us. But, for at least one hundred yards, the channel or bed of this gorge was entirely filled up with the chaotic ruins of more than a million tons of earth and stone that had been artificially tumbled within it. The means by which the vast mass had been precipitated were not more simple than evident, for sure traces of the murderous work were yet remaining. In several spots along the top of the eastern side of the gorge (we were now on the western) might be seen stakes of wood driven into the earth. In these spots the earth had not given way; but throughout the whole extent of the face of the precipice from which the mass had fallen, it was clear, from marks left in the soil resembling those made by the drill of the rock-blaster, that stakes similar to those we saw standing had been inserted, at not more than a yard apart, for the length of perhaps three hundred feet, and ranging at about ten feet back from the edge of the gulf. Strong cords of grape vine were attached to the stakes still remaining on the hill, and it was evident that such cords had also been attached to each of the other stakes. I have already spoken of the singular stratification of these soapstone hills; and the description just given of the narrow and deep fissure through which we effected our escape from inhumation will afford a further conception of its nature. This was such that almost every natural convulsion would be sure to split the soil into perpendicular layers or ridges running parallel with one another; and a very moderate exertion of art would be sufficient for effecting the same purpose. Of this stratification the savages had availed themselves to accomplish their treacherous ends. There can be no doubt that, by the continuous line of stakes, a partial rupture of the soil had been brought about, probably to the depth of one or two feet, when, by means of a savage pulling at the end of each of the cords (these cords being attached to the tops of the stakes, and extending back from the edge of the cliff), a vast leverage power was obtained, capable of hurling the whole face of the hill, upon a given signal, into the bosom of the abyss below. The fate of our poor companions was no longer a matter of uncertainty. We alone had escaped from the tempest of that overwhelming destruction. We were the only living white men upon the island.
The spot where we stood was close to the top of the highest peak in the soapstone hills. The gorge our group of thirty-two had entered was only about fifty feet to our left. But for at least one hundred yards, the channel or bed of this gorge was completely filled with the chaotic rubble of over a million tons of earth and stone that had been dumped there intentionally. The way this massive pile had been created was obvious and not straightforward, as clear signs of the deadly deed still remained. In several places along the top of the eastern side of the gorge (we were on the western side), wooden stakes were driven into the ground. In these spots, the earth hadn't collapsed; however, along the entire face of the cliff from which the mass had fallen, it was clear from the marks in the soil—resembling those made by a rock drill—that stakes like those we saw standing had been driven in, no more than a yard apart, for about three hundred feet, and extending around ten feet back from the edge of the drop. Strong grapevine cords were tied to the stakes still standing on the hill, and it was obvious those same cords had been attached to each of the other stakes. I’ve already mentioned the unique layering of these soapstone hills; and the description just provided of the narrow and deep fissure through which we escaped from burial will give a better idea of its character. It was such that almost any natural disturbance would likely split the soil into vertical layers or ridges running parallel to one another; and even a slight effort would be enough to achieve the same result. The natives had used this stratification to carry out their treacherous plans. There’s no doubt that through the continuous line of stakes, a partial breaking of the soil had been created, probably to a depth of one or two feet, when, with a savage pulling at the end of each of the cords (these cords being tied to the tops of the stakes and extending back from the cliff's edge), a massive leverage force was achieved, capable of throwing the entire face of the hill into the abyss below at a given signal. The fate of our unfortunate companions was no longer in question. We alone had survived the storm of that overwhelming destruction. We were the only living white men on the island.
CHAPTER XXII.
Our situation, as it now appeared, was scarcely less dreadful than when we had conceived ourselves entombed for ever. We saw before us no prospect but that of being put to death by the savages, or of dragging out a miserable existence in captivity among them. We might, to be sure, conceal ourselves for a time from their observation among the fastnesses of the hills, and, as a final resort, in the chasm from which we had just issued; but we must either perish in the long Polar winter through cold and famine, or be ultimately discovered in our efforts to obtain relief.
Our situation, as it now looked, was hardly any better than when we thought we were trapped forever. We could see no future except being killed by the savages or living a miserable life in captivity with them. We might be able to hide for a while in the hills, or, as a last resort, in the chasm we had just come out of; but we would eventually either freeze and starve during the long Polar winter or be found in our attempts to find help.
The whole country around us seemed to be swarming with savages, crowds of whom, we now perceived, had come over from the islands to the southward on flat rafts, doubtless with a view of lending their aid in the capture and plunder of the Jane. The vessel still lay calmly at anchor in the bay, those on board being apparently quite unconscious of any danger awaiting them. How we longed at that moment to be with them! either to aid in effecting their escape, or to perish with them in attempting a defence. We saw no chance even of warning them of their danger without bringing immediate destruction upon our own heads, with but a remote hope of benefit to them. A pistol fired might suffice to apprize them that something wrong had occurred; but the report could not possibly inform them that their only prospect of safety lay in getting out of the harbour forthwith—it could not tell them that no principles of honour now bound them to remain, that their companions were no longer among the living. Upon hearing the discharge they could not be more thoroughly prepared to meet the foe, who were now getting ready to attack, than they already were, and always had been. No good, therefore, and infinite harm, would result from our firing, and, after mature deliberation, we forbore.
The whole country around us seemed to be teeming with savages, many of whom had crossed over from the islands to the south on flat rafts, likely to help capture and loot the Jane. The ship still lay calmly at anchor in the bay, and those on board appeared completely unaware of the danger looming over them. How desperately we wished to be with them at that moment! Whether to help them escape or to share their fate in defending the ship. We saw no way to warn them of the threat without bringing immediate doom upon ourselves, with only a slim chance of helping them. A shot fired might alert them that something was wrong, but the sound wouldn’t tell them that their only chance for safety was to leave the harbor immediately—it wouldn’t inform them that they had no obligation to stay, that their companions were no longer alive. Upon hearing the shot, they would be no better prepared to face the attackers than they already were. Thus, firing our weapons wouldn’t help, and could cause great harm, so after careful consideration, we decided not to shoot.
Our next thought was to attempt a rush towards the vessel, to seize one of the four canoes which lay at the head of the bay, and endeavour to force a passage on board. But the utter impossibility of succeeding in this desperate task soon became evident. The country, as I said before, was literally swarming with the natives, skulking among the bushes and recesses of the hills, so as not to be observed from the schooner. In our immediate vicinity especially, and blockading the sole path by which we could hope to attain the shore in the proper point, were stationed the whole party of the black skin warriors, with Too-wit at their head, and apparently only waiting for some re-enforcement to commence his onset upon the Jane. The canoes, too, which lay at the head of the bay were manned with savages, unarmed, it is true, but who undoubtedly had arms within reach. We were forced, therefore, however unwillingly, to remain in our place of concealment, mere spectators of the conflict which presently ensued.
Our next idea was to make a dash for the ship, grab one of the four canoes at the edge of the bay, and try to get on board. But it quickly became clear that succeeding in this risky attempt was impossible. As I mentioned before, the area was crawling with natives hiding among the bushes and hills, trying to stay out of sight from the schooner. Particularly close to us, blocking the only path we could take to reach the shore, was the whole group of black-skinned warriors, led by Too-wit, who seemed to be just waiting for more reinforcements to attack the Jane. The canoes at the bay's edge were also crewed by natives who, while unarmed, surely had weapons nearby. We were therefore forced, though reluctantly, to stay hidden and just watch as the conflict unfolded.
In about half an hour we saw some sixty or seventy rafts, or flatboats, with outriggers, filled with savages, and coming round the southern bight of the harbour. They appeared to have no arms except short clubs, and stones which lay in the bottom of the rafts. Immediately afterward another detachment, still larger, approached in an opposite direction, and with similar weapons. The four canoes, too, were now quickly filled with natives, starting up from the bushes at the head of the bay, and put off swiftly to join the other parties. Thus, in less time than I have taken to tell it, and as if by magic, the Jane saw herself surrounded by an immense multitude of desperadoes evidently bent upon capturing her at all hazards.
In about half an hour, we spotted around sixty or seventy rafts or flatboats with outriggers, filled with Native people, coming around the southern bend of the harbor. They seemed to have no weapons except for short clubs and stones that were lying in the bottoms of the rafts. Shortly after, an even larger group approached from the opposite direction with similar weapons. Four canoes quickly filled with locals who had emerged from the bushes at the head of the bay and set off quickly to join the other groups. In no time at all, as if by some magic, the Jane found herself surrounded by a massive crowd of desperate individuals clearly intent on capturing her at any cost.
That they would succeed in so doing could not be doubted for an instant. The six men left in the vessel, however resolutely they might engage in her defence, were altogether unequal to the proper management of the guns, or in any manner to sustain a contest at such odds. I could hardly imagine that they would make resistance at all, but in this was deceived; for presently I saw them get springs upon the cable, and bring the vessel's starboard broadside to bear upon the canoes, which by this time were within pistol range, the rafts being nearly a quarter of a mile to windward. Owing to some cause unknown, but most probably to the agitation of our poor friends at seeing themselves in so hopeless a situation, the discharge was an entire failure. Not a canoe was hit or a single savage injured, the shots striking short and ricochêting over their heads. The only effect produced upon them was astonishment at the unexpected report and smoke, which was so excessive that for some moments I almost thought they would abandon their design entirely, and return to the shore. And this they would most likely have done had our men followed up their broadside by a discharge of small arms, in which, as the canoes were now so near at hand, they could not have failed in doing some execution, sufficient, at least, to deter this party from a farther advance, until they could have given the rafts also a broadside. But, in place of this, they left the canoe party to recover from their panic, and, by looking about them, to see that no injury had been sustained, while they flew to the larboard to get ready for the rafts.
There was no doubt they would succeed in doing so. The six men left on the vessel, no matter how determined they were to defend it, simply couldn’t manage the guns properly or sustain a fight against such overwhelming odds. I could hardly picture them putting up any resistance, but I was mistaken; soon I saw them set up the cable and aim the vessel's starboard side at the canoes, which by then were within pistol range, while the rafts were nearly a quarter of a mile upwind. For some unknown reason, likely because our poor friends were panicking at how hopeless their situation was, the shot completely missed. Not a single canoe was hit, and no one was injured; the shots fell short and ricocheted over their heads. The only effect it had on the attackers was shock at the sudden noise and smoke, which was so overwhelming that for a moment I thought they might give up entirely and go back to shore. They probably would have if our men had followed up their broadside with small arms fire, which, since the canoes were so close, would have definitely caused some damage, enough to scare them off until they could fire at the rafts too. Instead, they let the canoe party regain their composure and realize that no harm had been done while they rushed to the left side to prepare for the rafts.
The discharge to larboard produced the most terrible effect. The star and double-headed shot of the large guns cut seven or eight of the rafts completely asunder, and killed, perhaps, thirty or forty of the savages outright, while a hundred of them, at least, were thrown into the water, the most of them dreadfully wounded. The remainder, frightened out of their senses, commenced at once a precipitate retreat, not even waiting to pick up their maimed companions, who were swimming about in every direction, screaming and yelling for aid. This great success, however, came too late for the salvation of our devoted people. The canoe party were already on board the schooner to the number of more than a hundred and fifty, the most of them having succeeded in scrambling up the chains and over the boarding nettings even before the matches had been applied to the larboard guns. Nothing could now withstand their brute rage. Our men were borne down at once, overwhelmed, trodden under foot, and absolutely torn to pieces in an instant.
The blast to the left side had a shocking impact. The shot from the large guns completely destroyed seven or eight of the rafts and killed maybe thirty or forty of the natives right away, while at least a hundred others were thrown into the water, most of them seriously injured. The rest, completely terrified, immediately began to flee without even trying to help their wounded friends, who were struggling in the water, crying out for help. However, this major win came too late to save our people. The canoe group had already boarded the schooner, numbering over one hundred and fifty, most of them having managed to climb up the chains and over the boarding nets even before the guns on the left were fired. Nothing could now stop their furious attack. Our men were quickly overwhelmed, trampled, and torn to pieces in an instant.
Seeing this, the savages on the rafts got the better of their fears, and came up in shoals to the plunder. In five minutes the Jane was a pitiable scene indeed of havoc and tumultuous outrage. The decks were split open and ripped up; the cordage, sails, and everything moveable on deck demolished as if by magic; while, by dint of pushing at the stern, towing with the canoes, and hauling at the sides, as they swam in thousands around the vessel, the wretches finally forced her on shore (the cable having been slipped), and delivered her over to the good offices of Too-wit, who, during the whole of the engagement, had maintained, like a skilful general, his post of security and reconnoissance among the hills, but, now that the victory was completed to his satisfaction, condescended to scamper down with his warriors of the black skin, and become a partaker in the spoils.
Seeing this, the savages on the rafts overcame their fears and swarmed in to loot. In just five minutes, the Jane was a sorry sight, full of destruction and chaotic violence. The decks were torn apart and ripped up; the ropes, sails, and everything movable on deck was destroyed as if by magic. By pushing at the stern, towing with canoes, and pulling at the sides, as they swam in thousands around the ship, the wretched crew finally forced her ashore (after the cable had been cut) and handed her over to Too-wit, who had, throughout the entire fight, held his position of safety and observation among the hills like a skilled general. Now that the victory was secured to his satisfaction, he graciously ran down with his dark-skinned warriors to join in the spoils.
Too-wit's descent left us at liberty to quit our hiding-place and reconnoitre the hill in the vicinity of the chasm. At about fifty yards from the mouth of it we saw a small spring of water, at which we slaked the burning thirst that now consumed us. Not far from the spring we discovered several of the filbert-bushes which I mentioned before. Upon tasting the nuts we found them palatable, and very nearly resembling in flavour the common English filbert. We collected our hats full immediately, deposited them within the ravine, and returned for more. While we were busily employed in gathering these, a rustling in the bushes alarmed us, and we were upon the point of stealing back to our covert, when a large black bird of the bittern species strugglingly and slowly arose above the shrubs. I was so much startled that I could do nothing, but Peters had sufficient presence of mind to run up to it before it could make its escape, and seize it by the neck. Its struggles and screams were tremendous, and we had thoughts of letting it go, lest the noise should alarm some of the savages who might be still lurking in the neighbourhood. A stab with a Bowie knife, however, at length brought it to the ground, and we dragged it into the ravine, congratulating ourselves that, at all events, we had thus obtained a supply of food enough to last us for a week.
Too-wit's descent allowed us to leave our hiding spot and explore the area around the chasm. About fifty yards from its opening, we found a small spring where we quenched the intense thirst that had taken over us. Not far from the spring, we discovered several of the filbert bushes I mentioned earlier. After tasting the nuts, we found them enjoyable and very similar in flavor to the typical English filbert. We quickly filled our hats with them, stashed them in the ravine, and went back for more. While we were busy collecting, a rustling in the bushes startled us, and we were about to sneak back to our hiding place when a large black bird, resembling a bittern, struggled and slowly lifted off from the shrubs. I was so shocked that I couldn't move, but Peters had the presence of mind to run up to it before it could get away and grabbed it by the neck. Its flailing and screams were intense, and we considered letting it go so the noise wouldn't attract any nearby savages. However, a stab with a Bowie knife finally brought it down, and we dragged it into the ravine, feeling proud that we had at least secured enough food to last us for a week.
We now went out again to look about us, and ventured a considerable distance down the southern declivity of the hill, but met with nothing else which could serve us for food. We therefore collected a quantity of dry wood and returned, seeing one or two large parties of the natives on their way to the village, laden with the plunder of the vessel, and who, we were apprehensive, might discover us in passing beneath the hill.
We ventured out again to explore and went quite a distance down the south side of the hill, but we didn’t find anything else to eat. So, we gathered a good amount of dry wood and headed back, spotting one or two large groups of locals on their way to the village, carrying loot from the ship. We were worried they might see us as they passed under the hill.
Our next care was to render our place of concealment as secure as possible, and, with this object, we arranged some brushwood over the aperture which I have before spoken of as the one through which we saw the patch of blue sky, on reaching the platform from the interior of the chasm. We left only a very small opening, just wide enough to admit of our seeing the bay, without the risk of being discovered from below. Having done this, we congratulated ourselves upon the security of the position; for we were now completely excluded from observation, as long as we chose to remain within the ravine itself, and not venture out upon the hill. We could perceive no traces of the savages having ever been within this hollow; but, indeed, when we came to reflect upon the probability that the fissure through which we attained it had been only just now created by the fall of the cliff opposite, and that no other way of attaining it could be perceived, we were not so much rejoiced at the thought of being secure from molestation as fearful lest there should be absolutely no means left us for descent. We resolved to explore the summit of the hill thoroughly, when a good opportunity should offer. In the mean time we watched the motions of the savages through our loophole.
Our next priority was to make our hiding spot as safe as possible, so we covered the opening—previously mentioned as the one through which we could see a patch of blue sky when we climbed up from the bottom of the chasm—with some brushwood. We left only a tiny gap, just big enough for us to see the bay without risking detection from below. After doing this, we felt good about how secure we were because we could completely avoid being seen as long as we stayed in the ravine and didn’t go out onto the hill. We noticed no signs that the savages had ever been in this hollow; however, considering that the fissure we used to get here had likely just been created by the recent cliff fall and that there seemed to be no other way to reach it, we weren’t just pleased about our safety—we were also worried that we might have no way to get down. We decided we would thoroughly explore the top of the hill when a good chance arose. In the meantime, we kept an eye on the movements of the savages through our small opening.
They had already made a complete wreck of the vessel, and were now preparing to set her on fire. In a little while we saw the smoke ascending in huge volumes from her main-hatchway, and, shortly afterward, a dense mass of flame burst up from the forecastle. The rigging, masts, and what remained of the sails caught immediately, and the fire spread rapidly along the decks. Still a great many of the savages retained their stations about her, hammering with large stones, axes, and cannon balls at the bolts and other copper and iron work. On the beach, and in canoes and rafts, there were not less, altogether, in the immediate vicinity of the schooner, than ten thousand natives, besides the shoals of them who, laden with booty, were making their way inland and over to the neighbouring islands. We now anticipated a catastrophe, and were not disappointed. First of all there came a smart shock (which we felt distinctly where we were as if we had been slightly galvanized), but unattended with any visible signs of an explosion. The savages were evidently startled, and paused for an instant from their labours and yellings. They were upon the point of recommencing, when suddenly a mass of smoke puffed up from the decks, resembling a black and heavy thunder-cloud—then, as if from its bowels, arose a tall stream of vivid fire to the height, apparently, of a quarter of a mile—then there came a sudden circular expansion of the flame—then the whole atmosphere was magically crowded, in a single instant, with a wild chaos of wood, and metal, and human limbs—and, lastly, came the concussion in its fullest fury, which hurled us impetuously from our feet, while the hills echoed and re-echoed the tumult, and a dense shower of the minutest fragments of the ruins tumbled headlong in every direction around us.
They had completely destroyed the ship and were now getting ready to set it on fire. Soon we saw large amounts of smoke rising from the main hatch, and shortly after, a thick mass of flames shot up from the forecastle. The rigging, masts, and whatever was left of the sails caught fire right away, and the blaze quickly spread across the decks. Still, many of the natives stayed near the ship, banging on the bolts and other copper and iron parts with big stones, axes, and cannonballs. On the beach, in canoes and rafts, there were at least ten thousand natives in the immediate area around the schooner, not to mention the groups of them who were headed inland, loaded down with loot, or heading to the nearby islands. We braced for something catastrophic, and it happened just as we expected. First, there was a sharp jolt (which we felt as if we had been lightly shocked), but there were no visible signs of an explosion. The natives seemed startled and paused for a moment from their work and shouting. They were about to get back to it when suddenly, a cloud of smoke billowed up from the decks, resembling a dark and heavy thundercloud—then, as if from within it, a tall column of bright fire shot up, seemingly reaching a height of a quarter of a mile—then the flames expanded in a sudden circle—then the entire atmosphere was instantly filled with a chaotic mix of wood, metal, and human limbs—and finally, the blast hit us in full force, knocking us off our feet while the hills echoed and re-echoed the chaos, and a dense shower of tiny pieces of debris fell all around us.
The havoc among the savages far exceeded our utmost expectation, and they had now, indeed, reaped the full and perfect fruits of their treachery. Perhaps a thousand perished by the explosion, while at least an equal number were desperately mangled. The whole surface of the bay was literally strewn with the struggling and drowning wretches, and on shore matters were even worse. They seemed utterly appalled by the suddenness and completeness of their discomfiture, and made no efforts at assisting one another. At length we observed a total change in their demeanour. From absolute stupor they appeared to be, all at once, aroused to the highest pitch of excitement, and rushed wildly about, going to and from a certain point on the beach, with the strangest expressions of mingled horror, rage, and intense curiosity depicted on their countenances, and shouting, at the top of their voices, Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
The chaos among the savages was far beyond what we expected, and they had really suffered the full consequences of their betrayal. Maybe a thousand died in the explosion, while at least as many were left severely injured. The entire surface of the bay was literally filled with struggling and drowning victims, and things were even worse on shore. They seemed completely shocked by the suddenness and totality of their defeat, making no efforts to help each other. Finally, we noticed a complete change in their behavior. From being completely stunned, they suddenly became incredibly agitated, rushing around a specific point on the beach with strange expressions of horror, anger, and intense curiosity on their faces, shouting at the top of their lungs, Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
Presently we saw a large body go off into the hills, whence they returned in a short time, carrying stakes of wood. These they brought to the station where the crowd was the thickest, which now separated so as to afford us a view of the object of all this excitement. We perceived something white lying on the ground, but could not immediately make out what it was. At length we saw that it was the carcass of the strange animal with the scarlet teeth and claws which the schooner had picked up at sea on the eighteenth of January. Captain Guy had had the body preserved for the purpose of stuffing the skin and taking it to England. I remember he had given some directions about it just before our making the island, and it had been brought into the cabin and stowed away in one of the lockers. It had now been thrown on shore by the explosion; but why it had occasioned so much concern among the savages was more than we could comprehend. Although they crowded around the carcass at a little distance, none of them seemed willing to approach it closely. By-and-by the men with the stakes drove them in a circle around it, and, no sooner was this arrangement completed, than the whole of the vast assembly rushed into the interior of the island, with loud screams of Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
Right now, we saw a large group head off into the hills, and they quickly returned carrying wooden stakes. They took them to the spot where the crowd was thickest, which then split apart to give us a view of the cause of all this excitement. We noticed something white lying on the ground, but we couldn't immediately tell what it was. Eventually, we realized it was the carcass of the strange animal with the red teeth and claws that the schooner had picked up at sea on January 18th. Captain Guy had preserved the body to stuff the skin and take it back to England. I remember he had given some instructions about it just before we reached the island, and it had been brought into the cabin and stored in one of the lockers. Now it had been thrown ashore by the explosion; but why it had caused so much concern among the natives was beyond our understanding. Even though they gathered around the carcass from a distance, none of them seemed willing to get too close. Soon, the men with the stakes drove them in a circle around it, and as soon as this was done, the entire massive assembly rushed into the interior of the island, screaming loudly, Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
CHAPTER XXIII.
During the six or seven days immediately following we remained in our hiding-place upon the hill, going out only occasionally, and then with the greatest precaution, for water and filberts. We had made a kind of pent-house on the platform, furnishing it with a bed of dry leaves, and placing in it three large flat stones, which served us for both fireplace and table. We kindled a fire without difficulty by rubbing two pieces of dry wood together, the one soft, the other hard. The bird we had taken in such good season proved excellent eating, although somewhat tough. It was not an oceanic fowl, but a species of bittern, with jet black and grizzly plumage, and diminutive wings in proportion to its bulk. We afterward saw three of the same kind in the vicinity of the ravine, apparently seeking for the one we had captured; but, as they never alighted, we had no opportunity of catching them.
During the six or seven days right after, we stayed hidden on the hill, only going out occasionally and with great caution to get water and hazelnuts. We had built a sort of shelter on the platform, making a bed out of dry leaves and using three large flat stones for both our fireplace and table. We easily started a fire by rubbing two pieces of dry wood together, one soft and the other hard. The bird we caught at just the right time turned out to be really good to eat, although it was a bit tough. It wasn’t a sea bird, but a type of bittern, with jet black and gray plumage and small wings for its size. Later, we saw three more of the same kind near the ravine, apparently searching for the one we had captured, but since they never landed, we had no chance to catch them.
As long as this fowl lasted we suffered nothing from our situation; but it was now entirely consumed, and it became absolutely necessary that we should look out for provision. The filberts would not satisfy the cravings of hunger, afflicting us, too, with severe gripings of the bowels, and, if freely indulged in, with violent headache. We had seen several large tortoises near the seashore to the eastward of the hill, and perceived they might be easily taken, if we could get at them without the observation of the natives. It was resolved, therefore, to make an attempt at descending.
As long as we had that bird, we didn’t suffer from our situation; but now it was completely gone, and we urgently needed to find food. The filberts weren't enough to satisfy our hunger, causing us painful stomach cramps, and if we ate too many, we’d end up with terrible headaches. We had spotted several large tortoises near the beach to the east of the hill, and we realized they could be caught easily if we could sneak up on them without the locals seeing us. So, we decided to try to go down.
We commenced by going down the southern declivity, which seemed to offer the fewest difficulties, but had not proceeded a hundred yards before (as we had anticipated from appearances on the hill-top) our progress was entirely arrested by a branch of the gorge in which our companions had perished. We now passed along the edge of this for about a quarter of a mile, when we were again stopped by a precipice of immense depth, and, not being able to make our way along the brink of it, we were forced to retrace our steps by the main ravine.
We set off down the southern slope, which looked like it had the least obstacles. However, we hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards before, as we had expected from what we saw at the top of the hill, our path was completely blocked by a branch of the gorge where our friends had died. We then walked along the edge of this gorge for about a quarter of a mile, but once more we were stopped by a huge cliff. Unable to find a way along the edge, we had to go back the way we came through the main ravine.
We now pushed over to the eastward, but with precisely similar fortune. After an hour's scramble, at the risk of breaking our necks, we discovered that we had merely descended into a vast pit of black granite, with fine dust at the bottom, and whence the only egress was by the rugged path in which we had come down. Toiling again up this path, we now tried the northern edge of the hill. Here we were obliged to use the greatest possible caution in our manoeuvres, as the least indiscretion would expose us to the full view of the savages in the village. We crawled along, therefore, on our hands and knees, and, occasionally, were even forced to throw ourselves at full length, dragging our bodies along by means of the shrubbery. In this careful manner we had proceeded but a little way, when we arrived at a chasm far deeper than any we had yet seen, and leading directly into the main gorge. Thus our fears were fully confirmed, and we found ourselves cut off entirely from access to the world below. Thoroughly exhausted by our exertions, we made the best of our way back to the platform, and, throwing ourselves upon the bed of leaves, slept sweetly and soundly for some hours.
We then moved to the east again, but with the same luck. After an hour of scrambling, risking injury, we realized we had only gone down into a huge pit of black granite, with fine dust at the bottom, and the only way out was the rough path we came down on. Struggling back up this path, we decided to try the north edge of the hill. Here, we had to be extremely careful in our movements, as even a small mistake would expose us to the villagers’ view. So, we crawled along on our hands and knees, sometimes having to lie flat and pull ourselves through the bushes. We hadn’t gone far when we reached a chasm deeper than any we had seen before, leading right into the main gorge. This confirmed our fears: we were completely cut off from the world below. Totally worn out from our efforts, we made our way back to the platform, collapsed onto the bed of leaves, and slept deeply and soundly for several hours.
For several days after this fruitless search we were occupied in exploring every part of the summit of the hill, in order to inform ourselves of its actual resources. We found that it would afford us no food, with the exception of the unwholesome filberts, and a rank species of scurvy grass which grew in a little patch of not more than four rods square, and would be soon exhausted. On the fifteenth of February, as near as I can remember, there was not a blade of this left, and the nuts were growing scarce; our situation, therefore, could hardly be more lamentable.5 On the sixteenth we again went round the walls of our prison, in hope of finding some avenue of escape, but to no purpose. We also descended the chasm in which we had been overwhelmed, with the faint expectation of discovering, through this channel, some opening to the main ravine. Here, too, we were disappointed, although we found and brought up with us a musket.
For several days after this pointless search, we spent our time exploring every part of the top of the hill to figure out what resources it really had. We discovered that there was no food available except for some unhealthy filberts and a harsh type of scurvy grass that grew in a small patch no larger than four rods square, which would soon run out. On February 15th, as far as I can remember, there wasn't a single blade of this grass left, and the nuts were becoming scarce; our situation could hardly be more desperate.5 On the 16th, we once again walked around the walls of our prison, hoping to find some way to escape, but with no luck. We also went down into the chasm where we had been trapped, with a slim hope of finding an opening to the main ravine through this route. Again, we were disappointed, although we did find and bring up a musket.
5 This day was rendered remarkable by our observing in the south several huge wreaths of the grayish vapour I have before spoken of.
5 This day was noteworthy because we saw several large wreaths of the grayish mist I mentioned earlier in the south.
On the seventeenth we set out with the determination of examining more thoroughly the chasm of black granite into which we had made our way in the first search. We remembered that one of the fissures in the sides of this pit had been but partially looked into, and we were anxious to explore it, although with no expectation of discovering here any opening.
On the seventeenth, we set out with the goal of taking a closer look at the chasm of black granite we had explored during our first search. We recalled that one of the cracks on the sides of this pit had only been partially examined, and we were eager to investigate it, even though we didn’t really expect to find any openings there.
We found no great difficulty in reaching the bottom of the hollow as before, and were now sufficiently calm to survey it with some attention. It was, indeed, one of the most singular-looking places imaginable, and we could scarcely bring ourselves to believe it altogether the work of nature. The pit, from its eastern to its western extremity, was about five hundred yards in length, when all its windings were threaded; the distance from east to west in a straight line not being more (I should suppose, having no means of accurate examination) than forty or fifty yards. Upon first descending into the chasm, that is to say, for a hundred feet downward from the summit of the hill, the sides of the abyss bore little resemblance to each other, and, apparently, had at no time been connected, the one surface being of the soapstone and the other of marl, granulated with some metallic matter. The average breadth, or interval between the two cliffs, was probably here sixty feet, but there seemed to be no regularity of formation. Passing down, however, beyond the limit spoken of, the interval rapidly contracted, and the sides began to run parallel, although, for some distance farther, they were still dissimilar in their material and form of surface. Upon arriving within fifty feet of the bottom, a perfect regularity commenced. The sides were now entirely uniform in substance, in colour, and in lateral direction, the material being a very black and shining granite, and the distance between the two sides, at all points facing each other, exactly twenty yards. The precise formation of the chasm will be best understood by means of a delineation taken upon the spot; for I had luckily with me a pocketbook and pencil, which I preserved with great care through a long series of subsequent adventure, and to which I am indebted for memoranda of many subjects which would otherwise have been crowded from my remembrance.
We had no trouble reaching the bottom of the hollow this time and were calm enough to take a good look at it. It was truly one of the most unusual places you could imagine, and we could hardly believe it was entirely created by nature. The pit stretched about five hundred yards from east to west when you accounted for all its twists and turns, while the straight-line distance was probably only forty or fifty yards (I’m just estimating, as I had no way to measure it precisely). When we first descended into the chasm, the sides looked quite different from each other and clearly had never been connected; one side was made of soapstone, while the other was composed of marl mixed with some metallic material. The average width between the two cliffs was around sixty feet, but there was no consistency in their shapes. However, as we went deeper, the gap quickly narrowed, and the sides started to run parallel, although they still differed in material and surface texture for a while longer. When we were about fifty feet from the bottom, everything changed and became very uniform. The sides were now completely the same in substance, color, and direction, made of a shiny black granite, with the distance between the two sides exactly twenty yards apart at all points. The exact shape of the chasm would be better illustrated with a drawing I made on the spot; luckily, I had my pocketbook and pencil, which I kept safe throughout many adventures, and they helped me remember a lot of details I might have otherwise forgotten.

This figure (see figure 1) gives the general outlines of the chasm, without the minor cavities in the sides, of which there were several, each cavity having a corresponding protuberance opposite. The bottom of the gulf was covered to the depth of three or four inches with a powder almost impalpable, beneath which we found a continuation of the black granite. To the right, at the lower extremity, will be noticed the appearance of a small opening; this is the fissure alluded to above, and to examine which more minutely than before was the object of our second visit. We now pushed into it with vigour, cutting away a quantity of brambles which impeded us, and removing a vast heap of sharp flints somewhat resembling arrowheads in shape. We were encouraged to persevere, however, by perceiving some little light proceeding from the farther end. We at length squeezed our way for about thirty feet, and found that the aperture was a low and regularly-formed arch, having a bottom of the same impalpable powder as that in the main chasm. A strong light now broke upon us, and, turning a short bend, we found ourselves in another lofty chamber, similar to the one we had left in every respect but longitudinal form. Its general figure is here given. (See figure 2.)
This figure (see figure 1) shows the overall shape of the chasm, without the smaller cavities in the sides, of which there were several, each corresponding to a bump on the opposite side. The bottom of the gulf was covered with about three or four inches of an almost powdery substance, beneath which we found more black granite. To the right, at the lower end, you can see a small opening; this is the fissure mentioned earlier, and our plan for the second visit was to explore it more closely. We pushed into it energetically, cutting through a lot of brambles that were in our way and removing a large pile of sharp flints that looked somewhat like arrowheads. We were motivated to keep going when we noticed some light coming from the far end. After squeezing through for about thirty feet, we discovered that the opening was a low, regularly-shaped arch, with a bottom of the same fine powder as in the main chasm. A strong light then illuminated the space, and after turning a slight corner, we found ourselves in another tall chamber, which was similar to the one we had just left, except for its length. Its overall shape is shown here. (See figure 2.)

The total length of this chasm, commencing at the opening a and proceeding round the curve b to the extremity d, is five hundred and fifty yards. At c we discovered a small aperture similar to the one through which we had issued from the other chasm, and this was choked up in the same manner with brambles and a quantity of the white arrowhead flints. We forced our way through it, finding it about forty feet long, and emerged into a third chasm. This, too, was precisely like the first, except in its longitudinal shape, which was thus. (See figure 3.)
The total length of this chasm, starting at the entrance a and going around the curve b to the end d, is five hundred and fifty yards. At c, we found a small opening similar to the one we had used to exit the other chasm, and this was blocked in the same way with brambles and a bunch of white arrowhead flints. We pushed our way through it, finding it about forty feet long, and came out into a third chasm. This one was exactly like the first, except for its overall shape, which looked like this. (See figure 3.)

We found the entire length of the third chasm three hundred and twenty yards. At the point a was an opening about six feet wide, and extending fifteen feet into the rock, where it terminated in a bed of marl, there being no other chasm beyond, as we had expected. We were about leaving this fissure, into which very little light was admitted, when Peters called my attention to a range of singular-looking indentures in the surface of the marl forming the termination of the cul-de-sac. With a very slight exertion of the imagination, the left, or most northerly of these indentures might have been taken for the intentional, although rude, representation of a human figure standing erect, with outstretched arm. The rest of them bore also some little resemblance to alphabetical characters, and Peters was willing, at all events, to adopt the idle opinion that they were really such. I convinced him of his error, finally, by directing his attention to the floor of the fissure, where, among the powder, we picked up, piece by piece, several large flakes of the marl, which had evidently been broken off by some convulsion from the surface where the indentures were found, and which had projecting points exactly fitting the indentures; thus proving them to have been the work of nature. Figure 4. presents an accurate copy of the whole.
We measured the entire length of the third chasm to be three hundred twenty yards. At point a, there was an opening about six feet wide, extending fifteen feet into the rock, where it ended in a bed of marl, with no other chasm beyond, as we had expected. Just as we were about to leave this narrow space, which let in very little light, Peters pointed out a series of strange-looking indentations in the surface of the marl at the end of the cul-de-sac. With just a bit of imagination, the leftmost indentation, or the most northerly one, could have been seen as a crude representation of a human figure standing upright with an outstretched arm. The others also somewhat resembled alphabetic characters, and Peters was eager to entertain the idea that they actually were. I eventually convinced him he was mistaken by directing his attention to the floor of the fissure, where, among the debris, we picked up several large flakes of marl that had clearly been broken off from the surface where the indentations were found, and these flakes had protruding points that perfectly matched the indentations, proving they were naturally formed. Figure 4. presents an accurate copy of the whole.

After satisfying ourselves that these singular caverns afforded us no means of escape from our prison, we made our way back, dejected and dispirited, to the summit of the hill. Nothing worth mentioning occurred during the next twenty-four hours, except that, in examining the ground to the eastward of the third chasm, we found two triangular holes of great depth, and also with black granite sides. Into these holes we did not think it worth while to attempt descending, as they had the appearance of mere natural wells, without outlet. They were each about twenty yards in circumference, and their shape, as well as relative position in regard to the third chasm, is shown in figure 5, preceding page.
After confirming that these unique caves gave us no way to escape from our prison, we returned to the top of the hill, feeling defeated and downhearted. Nothing significant happened over the next twenty-four hours, except that while we were examining the ground east of the third chasm, we discovered two deep triangular holes with black granite sides. We didn’t see any reason to try to go down into these holes since they looked like natural wells with no outlet. Each hole was about twenty yards around, and their shape and position relative to the third chasm are illustrated in figure 5 on the previous page.
CHAPTER XXIV.
On the twentieth of the month, finding it altogether impossible to subsist any longer upon the filberts, the use of which occasioned us the most excruciating torment, we resolved to make a desperate attempt at descending the southern declivity of the hill. The face of the precipice was here of the softest species of soapstone, although nearly perpendicular throughout its whole extent (a depth of a hundred and fifty feet at the least), and in many places even overarching. After long search we discovered a narrow ledge about twenty feet below the brink of the gulf; upon this Peters contrived to leap, with what assistance I could render him by means of our pocket-handkerchiefs tied together. With somewhat more difficulty I also got down; and we then saw the possibility of descending the whole way by the process in which we had clambered up from the chasm when we had been buried by the fall of the hill—that is, by cutting steps in the face of the soapstone with our knives. The extreme hazard of the attempt can scarcely be conceived; but, as there was no other resource, we determined to undertake it.
On the twentieth of the month, finding it completely impossible to survive any longer on the filberts, which caused us the most unbearable pain, we decided to make a desperate attempt to go down the southern side of the hill. The slope here was made of very soft soapstone, although it was nearly vertical along its entire length (at least a hundred and fifty feet deep), and in many spots even overhanging. After searching for a while, we found a narrow ledge about twenty feet below the edge of the drop; Peters managed to jump onto it with the help I could give him using our pocket handkerchiefs tied together. I also made my way down with some difficulty, and then we realized we might be able to descend all the way by the same method we had used to climb up from the chasm when the hill fell on us—that is, by cutting steps in the soapstone with our knives. The extreme danger of the attempt is hard to imagine, but since there was no other option, we decided to go for it.
Upon the ledge where we stood there grew some filbert-bushes; and to one of these we made fast an end of our rope of handkerchiefs. The other end being tied round Peters's waist, I lowered him down over the edge of the precipice until the handkerchiefs were stretched tight. He now proceeded to dig a deep hole in the soapstone (as far in as eight or ten inches), sloping away the rock above to the height of a foot, or thereabout, so as to allow of his driving, with the butt of a pistol, a tolerably strong peg into the levelled surface. I then drew him up for about four feet, when he made a hole similar to the one below, driving in a peg as before, and having thus a resting-place for both feet and hands. I now unfastened the handkerchiefs from the bush, throwing him the end, which he tied to the peg in the uppermost hole, letting himself down gently to a station about three feet lower than he had yet been, that is, to the full extent of the handkerchiefs. Here he dug another hole, and drove another peg. He then drew himself up, so as to rest his feet in the hole just cut, taking hold with his hands upon the peg in the one above. It was now necessary to untie the handkerchiefs from the topmost peg, with the view of fastening them to the second; and here he found that an error had been committed in cutting the holes at so great a distance apart. However, after one or two unsuccessful and dangerous attempts at reaching the knot (having to hold on with his left hand while he laboured to undo the fastening with his right), he at length cut the string, leaving six inches of it affixed to the peg. Tying the handkerchiefs now to the second peg, he descended to a station below the third, taking care not to go too far down. By these means (means which I should never have conceived of myself, and for which we were indebted altogether to Peters's ingenuity and resolution) my companion finally succeeded, with the occasional aid of projections in the cliff, in reaching the bottom without accident.
On the ledge where we stood, there were some hazel bushes, and we tied one end of our handkerchief rope to one of them. The other end was secured around Peters's waist, and I lowered him over the edge of the cliff until the handkerchiefs were pulled tight. He then began to dig a deep hole into the soapstone, about eight to ten inches deep, sloping the rock above it to about a foot high to make room for him to drive a sturdy peg into the flat surface using the butt of a pistol. After that, I pulled him up about four feet, and he made another hole like the first, driving in a peg again, which gave him a spot to rest both his feet and hands. I then untied the handkerchiefs from the bush, tossed him the end, which he tied to the peg in the highest hole, and lowered himself gently to a point about three feet lower than he had been, reaching the maximum extent of the handkerchiefs. Here, he dug another hole and drove in another peg. He then pulled himself up to rest his feet in the hole he had just cut, grabbing the peg in the one above with his hands. Now it was necessary to untie the handkerchiefs from the top peg so he could attach them to the second one, and he realized a mistake had been made by cutting the holes too far apart. However, after a couple of unsuccessful and risky attempts to reach the knot (having to grip with his left hand while he worked to untie it with his right), he finally managed to cut the string, leaving six inches attached to the peg. He then tied the handkerchiefs to the second peg and descended to a point below the third, being careful not to go too far down. Thanks to Peters's cleverness and determination, along with some natural ledges on the cliff, my companion was able to reach the bottom safely.
It was some time before I could summon sufficient resolution to follow him; but I did at length attempt it. Peters had taken off his shirt before descending, and this, with my own, formed the rope necessary for the adventure. After throwing down the musket found in the chasm, I fastened this rope to the bushes, and let myself down rapidly, striving, by the vigour of my movements, to banish the trepidation which I could overcome in no other manner. This answered sufficiently well for the first four or five steps; but presently I found my imagination growing terribly excited by thoughts of the vast depth yet to be descended, and the precarious nature of the pegs and soapstone holes which were my only support. It was in vain I endeavoured to banish these reflections, and to keep my eyes steadily bent upon the flat surface of the cliff before me. The more earnestly I struggled not to think, the more intensely vivid became my conceptions, and the more horribly distinct. At length arrived that crisis of fancy, so fearful in all similar cases, the crisis in which we begin to anticipate the feelings with which we shall fall—to picture to ourselves the sickness, and dizziness, and the last struggle, and the half swoon, and the final bitterness of the rushing and headlong descent. And now I found these fancies creating their own realities, and all imagined horrors crowding upon me in fact. I felt my knees strike violently together, while my fingers were gradually yet certainly relaxing their grasp. There was a ringing in my ears, and I said, "This is my knell of death!" And now I was consumed with the irrepressible desire of looking below. I could not, I would not, confine my glances to the cliff; and, with a wild, indefinable emotion half of horror, half of a relieved oppression, I threw my vision far down into the abyss. For one moment my fingers clutched convulsively upon their hold, while, with the movement, the faintest possible idea of ultimate escape wandered, like a shadow, through my mind—in the next my whole soul was pervaded with a longing to fall; a desire, a yearning, a passion utterly uncontrollable. I let go at once my grasp upon the peg, and, turning half round from the precipice, remained tottering for an instant against its naked face. But now there came a spinning of the brain; a shrill-sounding and phantom voice screamed within my ears; a dusky, fiendish, and filmy figure stood immediately beneath me; and, sighing, I sunk down with a bursting heart, and plunged within its arms.
It took me a while to gather enough courage to follow him, but eventually, I made the attempt. Peters had taken off his shirt before he went down, and between his shirt and mine, we had the rope I needed for this adventure. After tossing aside the musket I found in the chasm, I tied this rope to some bushes and quickly lowered myself down, trying to shake off my fear with every movement. This worked okay for the first few steps, but soon my imagination started to run wild with thoughts of the huge drop still ahead and the sketchy pegs and soapstone holes that were my only support. I tried to push these thoughts away and keep my eyes focused on the flat surface of the cliff in front of me. The harder I fought to avoid thinking about it, the more vivid and terrifying my thoughts became. Eventually, I hit that dreaded moment we all face in these kinds of situations, where we start to predict how we’ll feel when we fall—picturing the sickness, the dizziness, the struggle, the near blackout, and the final gut-wrenching rush down. At that point, my fears felt all too real, closing in on me. My knees began to tremble, and my fingers were slowly but surely loosening their grip. I heard a ringing in my ears and thought, "This is my death knell!" And then I was overwhelmed with an uncontrollable urge to look down. I couldn’t keep my eyes on the cliff; with a wild mix of horror and strange relief, I peered deep into the void below. For a moment, my fingers grasped desperately at their hold, and as I did, a faint glimmer of hope for escape flashed through my mind—only to be replaced by an overwhelming longing to fall; a desire, a craving, something beyond my control. I immediately released my grip on the peg and turned slightly away from the edge, teetering against the cliff’s bare face for just a moment. But then everything spun, a high-pitched phantom voice rang in my ears, a dark, eerie figure loomed directly beneath me, and with a sigh, I sank down with a pounding heart, plunging into its embrace.
I had swooned, and Peters had caught me as I fell. He had observed my proceedings from his station at the bottom of the cliff; and, perceiving my imminent danger, had endeavoured to inspire me with courage by every suggestion he could devise; although my confusion of mind had been so great as to prevent my hearing what he said, or being conscious that he had even spoken to me at all. At length, seeing me totter, he hastened to ascend to my rescue, and arrived just in time for my preservation. Had I fallen with my full weight, the rope of linen would inevitably have snapped, and I should have been precipitated into the abyss; as it was, he contrived to let me down gently, so as to remain suspended without danger until animation returned. This was in about fifteen minutes. On recovery, my trepidation had entirely vanished; I felt a new being, and, with some little further aid from my companion, reached the bottom also in safety.
I had fainted, and Peters caught me as I fell. He had been watching me from his spot at the bottom of the cliff and, realizing I was in grave danger, tried to encourage me with every suggestion he could think of. However, I was so confused that I didn’t hear what he said or even notice that he was talking to me at all. Finally, seeing me wobble, he quickly climbed up to rescue me, arriving just in time to save me. If I had fallen with my full weight, the linen rope would have definitely snapped, and I would have plunged into the abyss. Instead, he managed to lower me down gently, allowing me to hang safely until I regained consciousness, which took about fifteen minutes. When I came to, all my fear had vanished; I felt like a new person, and with a little more help from my companion, I made it safely to the bottom as well.
We now found ourselves not far from the ravine which had proved the tomb of our friends, and to the southward of the spot where the hill had fallen. The place was one of singular wildness, and its aspect brought to my mind the descriptions given by travellers of those dreary regions marking the site of degraded Babylon. Not to speak of the ruins of the disruptured cliff, which formed a chaotic barrier in the vista to the northward, the surface of the ground in every other direction was strewn with huge tumuli, apparently the wreck of some gigantic structures of art; although, in detail, no semblance of art could be detected. Scoria were abundant, and large shapeless blocks of the black granite, intermingled with others of marl,6 and both granulated with metal. Of vegetation there were no traces whatsoever throughout the whole of the desolate area within sight. Several immense scorpions were seen, and various reptiles not elsewhere to be found in the high latitudes.
We now found ourselves not far from the ravine that had become the final resting place of our friends, and to the south of the spot where the hill had collapsed. The place was strikingly wild, and it reminded me of the descriptions travelers had given of the bleak regions marking the site of ruined Babylon. Aside from the remains of the shattered cliff, which created a chaotic barrier to the north, the ground in every other direction was littered with large mounds, likely the remnants of some enormous structures, even though none showed any signs of craftsmanship up close. There was plenty of scoria and large, misshapen blocks of black granite mixed with others of marl,6 all grainy with metal. There were no signs of vegetation anywhere in the desolate landscape we could see. We spotted several huge scorpions and various reptiles not typically found in these higher latitudes.
6 The marl was also black; indeed, we noticed no light-coloured substances of any kind upon the island.
6 The marl was black; in fact, we didn't observe any light-colored materials on the island at all.
As food was our most immediate object, we resolved to make our way to the seacoast, distant not more than half a mile, with a view of catching turtle, several of which we had observed from our place of concealment on the hill. We had proceeded some hundred yards, threading our route cautiously between the huge rocks and tumuli, when, upon turning a corner, five savages sprung upon us from a small cavern, felling Peters to the ground with a blow from a club. As he fell the whole party rushed upon him to secure their victim, leaving me time to recover from my astonishment. I still had the musket, but the barrel had received so much injury in being thrown from the precipice that I cast it aside as useless, preferring to trust my pistols, which had been carefully preserved in order. With these I advanced upon the assailants, firing one after the other in quick succession. Two savages fell, and one, who was in the act of thrusting a spear into Peters, sprung to his feet without accomplishing his purpose. My companion being thus released, we had no further difficulty. He had his pistols also, but prudently declined using them, confiding in his great personal strength, which far exceeded that of any person I have ever known. Seizing a club from one of the savages who had fallen, he dashed out the brains of the three who remained, killing each instantaneously with a single blow of the weapon, and leaving us completely masters of the field.
Since finding food was our top priority, we decided to head to the seacoast, which was only about half a mile away, to try and catch some turtles that we had seen from our hiding spot on the hill. We had made our way a couple of hundred yards, carefully navigating around the large rocks and mounds, when, as we turned a corner, five natives jumped out at us from a small cave, knocking Peters to the ground with a blow from a club. As he fell, the entire group rushed him to secure their victim, giving me a moment to recover from my shock. I still had the musket, but it had been damaged when it was thrown down the cliff, so I threw it aside as it was useless, opting instead to rely on my pistols, which I had kept in good condition. I advanced towards the attackers, firing off my shots in quick succession. Two natives fell, and one who was about to stab Peters suddenly jumped up, failing to complete his attack. With Peters freed, we faced no more obstacles. He also had his pistols but wisely chose not to use them, trusting in his incredible physical strength, which was greater than anyone I had ever seen. Grabbing a club from one of the fallen natives, he crushed the skulls of the three remaining attackers, killing each one instantly with a single blow, and leaving us completely in control of the situation.
So rapidly had these events passed, that we could scarcely believe in their reality, and were standing over the bodies of the dead in a species of stupid contemplation, when we were brought to recollection by the sound of shouts in the distance. It was clear that the savages had been alarmed by the firing, and that we had little chance of avoiding discovery. To regain the cliff, it would be necessary to proceed in the direction of the shouts; and even should we succeed in arriving at its base, we should never be able to ascend it without being seen. Our situation was one of the greatest peril, and we were hesitating in which path to commence a flight, when one of the savages whom I had shot, and supposed dead, sprang briskly to his feet, and attempted to make his escape. We overtook him, however, before he had advanced many paces, and were about to put him to death, when Peters suggested that we might derive some benefit from forcing him to accompany us in our attempt at escape. We therefore dragged him with us, making him understand that we would shoot him if he offered resistance. In a few minutes he was perfectly submissive, and ran by our sides as we pushed in among the rocks, making for the seashore.
So quickly had these events unfolded that we could hardly believe they were real, and we stood over the bodies of the dead in a sort of dazed contemplation when the sounds of shouts in the distance snapped us back to reality. It was clear that the savages had been alerted by the gunfire, and we had little chance of avoiding detection. To get back to the cliff, we would need to move toward the shouts; and even if we managed to reach its base, we would never be able to climb it without being spotted. Our situation was extremely dangerous, and we hesitated over which way to flee when one of the savages I had shot, who I thought was dead, suddenly jumped to his feet and tried to escape. We caught up with him before he had gone very far and were about to kill him when Peters suggested we might benefit from forcing him to help us escape. So we dragged him along, making it clear that we would shoot him if he resisted. In a few minutes, he was completely compliant and ran alongside us as we navigated through the rocks, heading for the seashore.
So far, the irregularities of the ground we had been traversing hid the sea, except at intervals, from our sight, and, when we first had it fairly in view, it was, perhaps, two hundred yards distant. As we emerged into the open beach we saw, to our great dismay, an immense crowd of the natives pouring from the village, and from all visible quarters of the island, making towards us with gesticulations of extreme fury, and howling like wild beasts. We were upon the point of turning upon our steps, and trying to secure a retreat among the fastnesses of the rougher ground, when I discovered the bows of two canoes projecting from behind a large rock which ran out into the water. Towards these we now ran with all speed, and, reaching them, found them unguarded, and without any other freight than three of the large Gallipago turtles and the usual supply of paddles for sixty rowers. We instantly took possession of one of them, and, forcing our captive on board, pushed out to sea with all the strength we could command.
Until now, the uneven ground we had been crossing kept the sea hidden from us, except at times, and when we finally saw it clearly, it was about two hundred yards away. As we reached the open beach, we were alarmed to see a huge crowd of locals rushing from the village and from all parts of the island toward us, gesturing wildly and howling like wild animals. We were about to turn back and try to find safety among the rougher terrain when I spotted the bows of two canoes sticking out from behind a large rock that jutted into the water. We quickly ran toward them and, upon reaching them, found they were unguarded, containing only three large Galapagos turtles and enough paddles for sixty rowers. We immediately took one of the canoes, forced our captive on board, and paddled out to sea with all the strength we could muster.
We had not made, however, more than fifty yards from the shore before we became sufficiently calm to perceive the great oversight of which we had been guilty in leaving the other canoe in the power of the savages, who, by this time, were not more than twice as far from the beach as ourselves, and were rapidly advancing to the pursuit. No time was now to be lost. Our hope was, at best, a forlorn one, but we had none other. It was very doubtful whether, with the utmost exertion, we could get back in time to anticipate them in taking possession of the canoe; but yet there was a chance that we could. We might save ourselves if we succeeded, while not to make the attempt was to resign ourselves to inevitable butchery.
We hadn’t gone more than fifty yards from the shore when we finally calmed down enough to realize the huge mistake we made by leaving the other canoe with the savages, who were by now only about twice as far from the beach as we were and were quickly closing in on us. We had no time to waste. Our hope was, at best, a long shot, but it was the only hope we had. It was very uncertain whether we could get back in time to beat them to the canoe, but there was still a chance we could. We might save ourselves if we tried, and not trying would mean accepting certain death.
The canoe was modelled with the bow and stern alike, and, in place of turning it round, we merely changed our position in paddling. As soon as the savages perceived this they redoubled their yells, as well as their speed, and approached with inconceivable rapidity. We pulled, however, with all the energy of desperation, and arrived at the contested point before more than one of the natives had attained it. This man paid dearly for his superior agility, Peters shooting him through the head with a pistol as he approached the shore. The foremost among the rest of his party were probably some twenty or thirty paces distant as we seized upon the canoe. We at first endeavoured to pull her into the deep water, beyond the reach of the savages, but, finding her too firmly aground, and there being no time to spare, Peters, with one or two heavy strokes from the butt of the musket, succeeded in dashing out a large portion of the bow and of one side. We then pushed off. Two of the natives by this time had got hold of our boat, obstinately refusing to let go, until we were forced to despatch them with our knives. We were now clear off, and making great way out to sea. The main body of the savages, upon reaching the broken canoe, set up the most tremendous yell of rage and disappointment conceivable. In truth, from everything I could see of these wretches, they appeared to be the most wicked, hypocritical, vindictive, bloodthirsty, and altogether fiendish race of men upon the face of the globe. It is clear we should have had no mercy had we fallen into their hands. They made a mad attempt at following us in the fractured canoe, but, finding it useless, again vented their rage in a series of hideous vociferations, and rushed up into the hills.
The canoe was designed with the front and back being the same, so instead of turning it around, we just shifted our position while paddling. As soon as the natives noticed this, they redoubled their shouts and sped toward us with incredible speed. We paddled with all our desperation and reached the spot before more than one of the locals got there. This guy paid for his speed when Peters shot him through the head with a pistol as he approached the shore. The rest of his group was probably twenty or thirty paces away when we took the canoe. At first, we tried to pull it into deeper water, out of the reach of the natives, but since it was too firmly stuck and we had no time, Peters used the butt of his musket to smash a significant portion of the front and one side. We then pushed off. By that time, two of the natives grabbed onto our boat, refusing to let go until we had to take them out with our knives. Now we were free and making our way out to sea. When the main group of natives reached the damaged canoe, they let out the most intense yell of rage and disappointment imaginable. Honestly, from everything I saw, these people seemed like the wickedest, most hypocritical, vindictive, bloodthirsty, and altogether fiendish group on the planet. It's clear we would have received no mercy had we fallen into their hands. They made a frantic attempt to follow us in the broken canoe, but when that proved useless, they expressed their anger through a series of terrifying screams and rushed up into the hills.
We were thus relieved from immediate danger, but our situation was still sufficiently gloomy. We knew that four canoes of the kind we had were at one time in the possession of the savages, and were not aware of the fact (afterward ascertained from our captive) that two of these had been blown to pieces in the explosion of the Jane Guy. We calculated, therefore, upon being yet pursued, as soon as our enemies could get round to the bay (distant about three miles) where the boats were usually laid up. Fearing this, we made every exertion to leave the island behind us, and went rapidly through the water, forcing the prisoner to take a paddle. In about half an hour, when we had gained, probably, five or six miles to the southward, a large fleet of the flat-bottomed canoes or rafts was seen to emerge from the bay, evidently with the design of pursuit. Presently they put back, despairing to overtake us.
We felt relieved from immediate danger, but our situation was still pretty bleak. We knew that four canoes like ours had once belonged to the savages and didn’t realize (as we later learned from our captive) that two of them had been destroyed in the explosion of the Jane Guy. So, we figured we would still be chased as soon as our enemies could make their way to the bay (about three miles away) where they usually kept the boats. Worried about this, we did everything we could to leave the island behind and moved quickly through the water, making the prisoner paddle. After about half an hour, we had probably covered five or six miles to the south when a large group of flat-bottomed canoes or rafts appeared from the bay, clearly looking to chase us. Soon after, they turned back, realizing they couldn’t catch us.
CHAPTER XXV.
We now found ourselves in the wide and desolate Antarctic Ocean, in a latitude exceeding eighty-four degrees, in a frail canoe, and with no provision but the three turtles. The long Polar winter, too, could not be considered as far distant, and it became necessary that we should deliberate well upon the course to be pursued. There were six or seven islands in sight belonging to the same group, and distant from each other about five or six leagues; but upon neither of these had we any intention to venture. In coming from the northward in the Jane Guy we had been gradually leaving behind us the severest regions of ice—this, however little it may be in accordance with the generally-received notions respecting the Antarctic, was a fact experience would not permit us to deny. To attempt, therefore, getting back, would be folly—especially at so late a period of the season. Only one course seemed to be left open for hope. We resolved to steer boldly to the southward, where there was at least a probability of discovering other lands, and more than a probability of finding a still milder climate.
We now found ourselves in the vast and empty Antarctic Ocean, at a latitude over eighty-four degrees, in a flimsy canoe, with nothing to eat except for the three turtles. The long Polar winter wasn’t far off, so we needed to think carefully about our next steps. There were six or seven islands in sight belonging to the same group, spaced about five or six leagues apart; however, we had no plans to venture to any of them. As we came southward in the Jane Guy, we had been gradually leaving behind the harshest ice regions—this, though it might not fit the commonly accepted ideas about the Antarctic, was a truth we couldn’t ignore. So, trying to go back would be foolish—especially so late in the season. The only option that seemed promising was to head boldly south, where there was at least a chance of discovering new lands and a good chance of finding a milder climate.
So far we had found the Antarctic, like the Arctic Ocean, peculiarly free from violent storms or immoderately rough water; but our canoe was, at best, of frail structure, although large, and we set busily to work with a view of rendering her as safe as the limited means in our possession would admit. The body of the boat was of no better material than bark—the bark of a tree unknown. The ribs were of a tough osier, well adapted to the purpose for which it was used. We had fifty feet room from stem to stern, from four to six in breadth, and in depth throughout four feet and a half—the boats thus differing vastly in shape from those of any other inhabitants of the Southern Ocean with whom civilized nations are acquainted. We never did believe them the workmanship of the ignorant islanders who owned them; and some days after this period discovered, by questioning our captive, that they were in fact made by the natives of a group to the southwest of the country where we found them, having fallen accidentally into the hands of our barbarians. What we could do for the security of our boat was very little indeed. Several wide rents were discovered near both ends, and these we contrived to patch up with pieces of woollen jacket. With the help of the superfluous paddles, of which there were a great many, we erected a kind of framework about the bow, so as to break the force of any seas which might threaten to fill us in that quarter. We also set up two paddle-blades for masts, placing them opposite each other, one by each gunwale, thus saving the necessity of a yard. To these masts we attached a sail made of our shirts—doing this with some difficulty, as here we could get no assistance from our prisoner whatever, although he had been willing enough to labour in all the other operations. The sight of the linen seemed to affect him in a very singular manner. He could not be prevailed upon to touch it or go near it, shuddering when we attempted to force him, and shrieking out Tekeli-li!
So far, we had found the Antarctic, like the Arctic Ocean, strangely calm, without severe storms or excessively rough waters; however, our canoe was, at best, fragile, even though it was large. We quickly set to work trying to make it as safe as our limited resources allowed. The body of the boat was made of nothing better than bark—the bark of an unknown tree. The ribs were made of tough willow, well-suited for its intended use. We had fifty feet of space from front to back, four to six feet wide, and a depth of four and a half feet throughout—the boats were thus very different in shape from those of any other inhabitants of the Southern Ocean that civilized nations know. We never believed them to be constructed by the ignorant islanders who owned them; a few days later, we learned by questioning our captive that they were actually made by the natives of a group located to the southwest of where we found them, having accidentally ended up in the hands of our barbaric captors. There was very little we could do to secure our boat. Several large tears were found near both ends, which we managed to patch up with pieces of our wool jackets. Using the extra paddles, of which there were plenty, we created a kind of framework around the front to help deflect any waves that might threaten to swamp us there. We also set up two paddle blades as masts, placing them opposite each other on either side of the boat, avoiding the need for a yard. To these masts, we attached a sail made from our shirts—doing this with some difficulty, as we could get no help from our captive, even though he had been willing to assist with everything else. The sight of the fabric seemed to disturb him in a strange way. He wouldn't touch it or go near it, shuddering when we tried to force him, and screaming out Tekeli-li!
Having completed our arrangements in regard to the security of the canoe, we now set sail to the south southeast for the present, with the view of weathering the most southerly of the group in sight. This being done, we turned the bow full to the southward. The weather could by no means be considered disagreeable. We had a prevailing and very gentle wind from the northward, a smooth sea, and continual daylight. No ice whatever was to be seen; nor did I ever see one particle of this after leaving the parallel of Bennet's Islet. Indeed, the temperature of the water was here far too warm for its existence in any quantity. Having killed the largest of our tortoises, and obtained from him not only food, but a copious supply of water, we continued on our course, without any incident of moment, for perhaps seven or eight days, during which period we must have proceeded a vast distance to the southward, as the wind blew constantly with us, and a very strong current set continually in the direction we were pursuing.
Having sorted out the canoe's security, we set sail to the south-southeast for now, aiming to pass by the southernmost island in sight. Once we did that, we pointed the bow straight south. The weather was definitely not unpleasant. We had a light, steady wind from the north, a calm sea, and constant daylight. There was no ice at all to be seen; nor did I ever see a single piece of it after leaving the parallel of Bennet's Islet. In fact, the water temperature was way too warm for any ice to form in significant amounts. After we killed our largest tortoise and got not just food but also plenty of water from it, we kept moving along our path without any major incidents for about seven or eight days. During this time, we must have traveled a long way south, as the wind was always in our favor, and a strong current consistently flowed in the direction we were heading.
March 1.7 Many unusual phenomena now indicated that we were entering upon a region of novelty and wonder. A high range of light gray vapour appeared constantly in the southern horizon, flaring up occasionally in lofty streaks, now darting from east to west, now from west to east, and again presenting a level and uniform summit—in short, having all the wild variations of the Aurora Borealis. The average height of this vapour, as apparent from our station, was about twenty-five degrees. The temperature of the sea seemed to be increasing momentarily, and there was a very perceptible alteration in its colour.
March 1.7 Many strange phenomena suggested that we were entering a zone of novelty and wonder. A dense layer of light gray vapor was constantly visible on the southern horizon, occasionally flaring up in tall streaks, sometimes shooting from east to west, other times from west to east, and at times presenting a flat and uniform peak—in short, displaying all the wild variations of the Aurora Borealis. The average height of this vapor, as seen from our position, was about twenty-five degrees. The ocean's temperature seemed to be rising steadily, and there was a noticeable change in its color.
7 For obvious reasons I cannot pretend to strict accuracy in these dates. They are given principally with a view to perspicuity of narration, and as set down in my pencil memoranda.
7 For obvious reasons, I can’t claim complete accuracy for these dates. They are mainly provided for clarity in the storytelling and are noted as I jotted them down in my pencil notes.
March 2. To-day, by repeated questioning of our captive, we came to the knowledge of many particulars in regard to the island of the massacre, its inhabitants, and customs—but with these how can I now detain the reader? I may say, however, that we learned there were eight islands in the group—that they were governed by a common king, named Tsalemon or Psalemoun, who resided in one of the smallest of the islands—that the black skins forming the dress of the warriors came from an animal of huge size to be found only in a valley near the court of the king—that the inhabitants of the group fabricated no other boats than the flat-bottomed rafts; the four canoes being all of the kind in their possession, and these having been obtained, by mere accident, from some large island to the southwest—that his own name was Nu-Nu—that he had no knowledge of Bennet's Islet—and that the appellation of the island we had left was Tsalal. The commencement of the words Tsalemon and Tsalal was given with a prolonged hissing sound, which we found it impossible to imitate, even after repeated endeavours, and which was precisely the same with the note of the black bittern we had eaten upon the summit of the hill.
March 2. Today, through repeated questioning of our captive, we learned many details about the island of the massacre, its people, and their customs—but how can I now keep the reader engaged with this? I can say, however, that we found out there were eight islands in the group—that they were ruled by a common king named Tsalemon or Psalemoun, who lived on one of the smallest islands—that the black skins worn by the warriors came from a large animal found only in a valley near the king's court—that the inhabitants of the group made no boats other than flat-bottomed rafts; the four canoes were the only ones they had, and these were obtained purely by chance from a large island to the southwest—that his name was Nu-Nu—that he had no knowledge of Bennet's Islet—and that the name of the island we had left was Tsalal. The beginnings of the names Tsalemon and Tsalal were pronounced with a prolonged hissing sound, which we found impossible to reproduce, even after many attempts, and which was exactly the same as the call of the black bittern we had eaten at the top of the hill.
March 3. The heat of the water was now truly remarkable, and its colour was undergoing a rapid change, being no longer transparent, but of a milky consistency and hue. In our immediate vicinity it was usually smooth, never so rough as to endanger the canoe—but we were frequently surprised at perceiving, to our right and left, at different distances, sudden and extensive agitations of the surface—these, we at length noticed, were always preceded by wild flickerings in the region of vapour to the southward.
March 3. The temperature of the water was now truly incredible, and its color was changing quickly, becoming not transparent but a milky consistency and hue. Around us, it was generally calm, never rough enough to threaten the canoe—but we were often startled to see sudden and large disturbances on the surface to our right and left at various distances—these were always preceded by wild flickers in the area of vapor to the south.
March 4. To-day, with the view of widening our sail, the breeze from the northward dying away perceptibly, I took from my coat-pocket a white handkerchief. Nu-Nu was seated at my elbow, and the linen accidentally flaring in his face, he became violently affected with convulsions. These were succeeded by drowsiness and stupor, and low murmurings of Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
March 4. Today, with the intention of catching more wind, I noticed the breeze from the north was noticeably fading. I took a white handkerchief out of my coat pocket. Nu-Nu was sitting next to me, and when the fabric unexpectedly flared in his face, he started to convulse intensely. This was followed by drowsiness and a daze, along with low murmurs of Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
March 5. The wind had entirely ceased, but it was evident that we were still hurrying on to the southward, under the influence of a powerful current. And now, indeed, it would seem reasonable that we should experience some alarm at the turn events were taking—but we felt none. The countenance of Peters indicated nothing of this nature, although it wore at times an expression I could not fathom. The Polar winter appeared to be coming on—but coming without its terrors. I felt a numbness of body and mind—a dreaminess of sensation—but this was all.
March 5. The wind had completely died down, but it was clear that we were still moving quickly southward, propelled by a strong current. At this point, it would make sense for us to feel some anxiety about the direction things were heading—but we felt none. Peters's face showed no signs of concern, even though at times it held an expression I couldn’t quite understand. The Polar winter seemed to be approaching—but it was coming without its usual fears. I felt a numbness in both body and mind—a dreamy sensation—but that was it.
March 6. The gray vapour had now arisen many more degrees above the horizon, and was gradually losing its grayness of tint. The heat of the water was extreme, even unpleasant to the touch, and its milky hue was more evident than ever. To-day a violent agitation of the water occurred very close to the canoe. It was attended, as usual, with a wild flaring up of the vapour at its summit, and a momentary division at its base. A fine white powder, resembling ashes—but certainly not such—fell over the canoe and over a large surface of the water, as the flickering died away among the vapour and the commotion subsided in the sea. Nu-Nu now threw himself on his face in the bottom of the boat, and no persuasions could induce him to arise.
March 6. The gray mist had now risen much higher in the sky and was slowly losing its gray color. The water was extremely hot, almost unpleasant to touch, and its milky appearance was clearer than ever. Today, there was a violent agitation of the water very close to the canoe. It was accompanied, as usual, by a wild flare-up of vapor at the top and a brief separation at the bottom. A fine white powder, looking like ashes—but definitely not that—fell over the canoe and a large area of the water, as the flickering faded among the vapor and the chaos in the sea calmed down. Nu-Nu threw himself on his face in the bottom of the boat, and no amount of persuasion could get him to stand up.
March 7. This day we questioned Nu-Nu concerning the motives of his countrymen in destroying our companions; but he appeared to be too utterly overcome by terror to afford us any rational reply. He still obstinately lay in the bottom of the boat; and, upon our reiterating the questions as to the motive, made use only of idiotic gesticulations, such as raising with his forefinger the upper lip, and displaying the teeth which lay beneath it. These were black. We had never before seen the teeth of an inhabitant of Tsalal.
March 7. Today, we asked Nu-Nu about why his people killed our companions, but he seemed too terrified to give us a sensible answer. He stubbornly stayed at the bottom of the boat, and when we kept asking about their motives, he only responded with strange gestures, like lifting his upper lip with his index finger to show us his teeth, which were black. We had never seen the teeth of someone from Tsalal before.
March 8. To-day there floated by us one of the white animals whose appearance upon the beach at Tsalal had occasioned so wild a commotion among the savages. I would have picked it up, but there came over me a sudden listlessness, and I forbore. The heat of the water still increased, and the hand could no longer be endured within it. Peters spoke little, and I knew not what to think of his apathy. Nu-Nu breathed, and no more.
March 8. Today, one of the white animals that caused such a stir among the locals at Tsalal floated by us. I considered picking it up, but I suddenly felt a wave of disinterest and held back. The water was getting hotter, and my hand could barely stand it anymore. Peters said little, and I wasn't sure what to make of his indifference. Nu-Nu was barely breathing.
March 9. The white ashy material fell now continually around us, and in vast quantities. The range of vapour to the southward had arisen prodigiously in the horizon, and began to assume more distinctness of form. I can liken it to nothing but a limitless cataract, rolling silently into the sea from some immense and far-distant rampart in the heaven. The gigantic curtain ranged along the whole extent of the southern horizon. It emitted no sound.
March 9. The white ash material kept falling around us in large amounts. The vapor in the south had risen significantly on the horizon and started to take on a clearer shape. I can only compare it to an endless waterfall, silently flowing into the sea from some huge, distant barrier in the sky. The massive curtain stretched across the entire southern horizon. It made no sound.
March 21. A sullen darkness now hovered above us—but from out the milky depths of the ocean a luminous glare arose, and stole up along the bulwarks of the boat. We were nearly overwhelmed by the white ashy shower which settled upon us and upon the canoe, but melted into the water as it fell. The summit of the cataract was utterly lost in the dimness and the distance. Yet we were evidently approaching it with a hideous velocity. At intervals there were visible in it wide, yawning, but momentary rents, and from out these rents, within which was a chaos of flitting and indistinct images, there came rushing and mighty, but soundless winds, tearing up the enkindled ocean in their course.
March 21. A heavy darkness hung over us, but from the milky depths of the ocean, a bright glow emerged and crept up along the sides of the boat. We were almost overwhelmed by the white, ashy shower that settled on us and the canoe, but it dissolved into the water as it fell. The top of the waterfall was completely lost in the gloom and distance. Still, we were clearly approaching it at a terrifying speed. Occasionally, we could see wide, gaping, but brief openings in it, and from these openings, where a chaos of fleeting and blurred images lay, powerful but silent winds surged, stirring up the fiery ocean in their path.
March 22. The darkness had materially increased, relieved only by the glare of the water thrown back from the white curtain before us. Many gigantic and pallidly white birds flew continuously now from beyond the veil, and their scream was the eternal Tekeli-li! as they retreated from our vision. Hereupon Nu-Nu stirred in the bottom of the boat; but, upon touching him, we found his spirit departed. And now we rushed into the embraces of the cataract, where a chasm threw itself open to receive us. But there arose in our pathway a shrouded human figure, very far larger in its proportions than any dweller among men. And the hue of the skin of the figure was of the perfect whiteness of the snow.
March 22. The darkness had increased significantly, lit only by the bright reflection of the water bouncing off the white curtain in front of us. Many huge, pale white birds were constantly flying in from beyond the veil, their cries echoing the endless Tekeli-li! as they faded from view. At that moment, Nu-Nu shifted at the bottom of the boat, but when we touched him, we realized his spirit had left. Then we plunged into the falls, where a chasm opened up to welcome us. But suddenly, a cloaked figure appeared in our path, much larger than any human. The skin of this figure was the pure white of fresh snow.
NOTE.
The circumstances connected with the late sudden and distressing death of Mr. Pym are already well known to the public through the medium of the daily press. It is feared that the few remaining chapters which were to have completed his narrative, and which were retained by him, while the above were in type, for the purpose of revision, have been irrecoverably lost through the accident by which he perished himself. This, however, may prove not to be the case, and the papers, if ultimately found, will be given to the public.
The situation surrounding the sudden and upsetting death of Mr. Pym is already well known to the public through the daily news. There are concerns that the remaining chapters meant to complete his story, which he held onto while the others were being printed for revisions, may have been irretrievably lost in the accident that led to his own demise. However, it’s possible that this isn’t true, and if the documents are eventually found, they will be released to the public.
No means have been left untried to remedy the deficiency. The gentleman whose name is mentioned in the preface, and who, from the statement there made, might be supposed able to fill the vacuum, has declined the task—this for satisfactory reasons connected with the general inaccuracy of the details afforded him, and his disbelief in the entire truth of the latter portions of the narration. Peters, from whom some information might be expected, is still alive, and a resident of Illinois, but cannot be met with at present. He may hereafter be found, and will, no doubt, afford material for a conclusion of Mr. Pym's account.
No effort has been spared to address the shortfall. The gentleman mentioned in the preface, who might be thought capable of filling the gap based on that statement, has declined the task for valid reasons related to the overall inaccuracies in the information provided to him and his skepticism about the truth of the later parts of the story. Peters, from whom we might have expected some insight, is still alive and living in Illinois, but we cannot reach him at this time. He may be found in the future, and will likely provide important details to conclude Mr. Pym's account.
The loss of the two or three final chapters (for there were but two or three) is the more deeply to be regretted, as, it cannot be doubted, they contained matter relative to the Pole itself, or at least to regions in its very near proximity; and as, too, the statements of the author in relation to these regions may shortly be verified or contradicted by means of the governmental expedition now preparing for the Southern Ocean.
The loss of the last two or three chapters (since there were only two or three) is particularly unfortunate because it's clear they included important information about the Pole itself, or at least areas very close to it. Additionally, the claims made by the author regarding these areas could soon be confirmed or disproven by the government expedition currently being organized for the Southern Ocean.
On one point in the Narrative some remarks may be well offered; and it would afford the writer of this appendix much pleasure if what he may here observe should have a tendency to throw credit, in any degree, upon the very singular pages now published. We allude to the chasms found in the island of Tsalal, and to the whole of the figures upon pages 182, 183, 184, 185.
On one point in the Narrative, some comments may be worth sharing, and it would greatly please the writer of this appendix if what he notes here could help lend some credibility, even slightly, to the very unique pages that are now published. We’re referring to the gaps found on the island of Tsalal, and to all the figures on pages 182, 183, 184, 185.
Mr. Pym has given the figures of the chasms without comment, and speaks decidedly of the indentures found at the extremity of the most easterly of these chasms as having but a fanciful resemblance to alphabetical characters, and, in short, as being positively not such. This assertion is made in a manner so simple, and sustained by a species of demonstration so conclusive (viz., the fitting of the projections of the fragments found among the dust into the indentures upon the wall), that we are forced to believe the writer in earnest; and no reasonable reader should suppose otherwise. But as the facts in relation to all the figures are most singular (especially when taken in connexion with statements made in the body of the narrative), it may be as well to say a word or two concerning them all—this, too, the more especially as the facts in question have, beyond doubt, escaped the attention of Mr. Poe.
Mr. Pym has provided the details of the chasms without any comments and states clearly that the indentures found at the edge of the easternmost chasm only vaguely resemble alphabetical characters and are, in fact, definitely not so. This claim is presented in a very straightforward way and backed by a kind of proof that is quite compelling (specifically, the way the shapes of the fragments found in the dust fit into the indentures on the wall), leading us to believe that the writer is sincere; no reasonable reader should think otherwise. However, since the details regarding all the figures are quite unusual (especially when considered alongside statements made in the main narrative), it might be helpful to say a few words about them all—particularly since Mr. Poe has likely overlooked these facts.
Figure 1, then, figure 2,
figure 3, and figure 5, when conjoined with
one another in the precise order which the chasms themselves presented,
and when deprived of the small lateral branches or arches (which, it
will be remembered, served only as means of communication between the
main chambers, and were of totally distinct character), constitute an
Ethiopian verbal root—the root "To be shady"—whence
all the inflections of shadow or darkness.
Figure 1, then, figure 2, figure 3, and figure 5, when combined together in the exact order the gaps presented, and when the small side branches or arches are removed (which, as a reminder, were only for communication between the main areas and were fundamentally different), form an Ethiopian verbal root—the root "To be shady"—from which all variations of shadow or darkness arise.
In regard to the "left or most northwardly" of the indentures in figure
4, it is more than probable that the opinion of Peters was correct, and
that the hieroglyphical appearance was really the work of art, and
intended as the representation of a human form. The delineation is
before the reader, and he may, or may not, perceive the resemblance
suggested; but the rest of the indentures afford strong confirmation of
Peters's idea. The upper range is evidently the Arabic verbal root
"To be white," whence all the inflections of brilliancy
and whiteness. The lower range is not so immediately perspicuous. The
characters are somewhat broken and disjointed; nevertheless, it cannot
be doubted that, in their perfect state, they formed the full Egyptian
word
"The region of the south." It should be observed
that these interpretations confirm the opinion of Peters in regard to
the "most northwardly" of the figures. The arm is outstretched towards
the south.
In relation to the "left or most northern" indentures in figure 4, it's likely that Peters was correct, and that the hieroglyphic appearance was truly a piece of art, meant to represent a human form. The depiction is right before the reader, and they may or may not notice the suggested resemblance; however, the other indentures strongly support Peters's theory. The upper section clearly shows the Arabic verbal root "To be white," from which all variations of brightness and whiteness derive. The lower section is not as immediately clear. The characters are somewhat fragmented and disjointed; however, it is undeniable that, in their complete form, they represented the whole Egyptian word
"The region of the south." It should be noted that these interpretations back up Peters's view regarding the "most northern" of the figures. The arm is extended towards the south.
Conclusions such as these open a wide field for speculation and exciting conjecture. They should be regarded, perhaps, in connexion with some of the most faintly-detailed incidents of the narrative; although in no visible manner is this chain of connexion complete. Tekeli-li! was the cry of the affrighted natives of Tsalal upon discovering the carcass of the white animal picked up at sea. This also was the shuddering exclamation of the captive Tsalalian upon encountering the white materials in possession of Mr. Pym. This also was the shriek of the swift-flying, white, and gigantic birds which issued from the vapoury white curtain of the South. Nothing white was to be found at Tsalal, and nothing otherwise in the subsequent voyage to the region beyond. It is not impossible that "Tsalal," the appellation of the island of the chasms, may be found, upon minute philological scrutiny, to betray either some alliance with the chasms themselves, or some reference to the Ethiopian characters so mysteriously written in their windings.
Conclusions like these open up a wide field for speculation and exciting ideas. They should probably be considered in connection with some of the more vaguely detailed incidents of the story; although, in no clear way is this connection complete. "Tekeli-li!" was the cry of the terrified natives of Tsalal upon discovering the carcass of the white animal found at sea. This was also the shuddering exclamation of the captured Tsalalian upon encountering the white materials in Mr. Pym's possession. This was also the scream of the swift-flying, white, gigantic birds that emerged from the misty white curtain of the South. Nothing white was found at Tsalal, and nothing else was discovered on the later voyage to the regions beyond. It’s not impossible that "Tsalal," the name of the island of the chasms, might reveal, upon careful linguistic study, some connection with the chasms themselves or a reference to the Ethiopian characters mysteriously written in their twists.
"I have graven it within the hills, and my vengeance upon the dust within the rock."
"I've etched it into the hills, and my revenge upon the dust inside the rock."
Transcriber's Note: The last two chapters, Chapters XXIV and XXV were named, respectively, XXIII and XXIV in the original publication, with, therefore, two chapters XXIII. This has been corrected in this transcription. The table of chapter links has been created for easier navigation.
Transcriber's Note: The last two chapters, Chapters XXIV and XXV, were originally labeled as XXIII and XXIV in the first publication, resulting in two chapters labeled XXIII. This has been corrected in this transcription. A table of chapter links has been created for easier navigation.
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