certain whether the brig Negociator would sail for the Friendly
Islands via Cape Horn or via the Cape of Good Hope. To
confess my
own
ignorance, not until after I was transferred to Folsom did I
learn in which ocean were the Friendly Islands. The Japanese
murderer, whom I have mentioned before, had been a sailmaker on
board the Arthur Sewall ships, and he told me that the probable
sailing course would be by way of the Cape of Good Hope. If this
were so, then the dates of sailing from Philadelphia and of being
wrecked would easily determine which ocean. Un
fortunately, the
sailing date is merely 1809. The wreck might as likely have
occurred in one ocean as the other.
Only once did I, in my trances, get a hint of the period preceding
the time spent on the island. This begins at the moment of the
brig's
collision with the
iceberg, and I shall narrate it, if for no
other reason, at least to give an
account of my
curiously cool and
deliberate conduct. This conduct at this time, as you shall see,
was what enabled me in the end to
survive alone of all the ship's
company.
I was awakened, in my bunk in the forecastle, by a
terrific crash.
In fact, as was true of the other six
sleeping men of the watch
below, awaking and leaping from bunk to floor were simultaneous. We
knew what had happened. The others waited for nothing, rushing only
partly clad upon deck. But I knew what to expect, and I did wait.
I knew that if we escaped at all, it would be by the longboat. No
man could swim in so freezing a sea. And no man,
thinly clad, could
live long in the open boat. Also, I knew just about how long it
would take to
launch the boat.
So, by the light of the wildly swinging slush-lamp, to the
tumult on
deck and to cries of "She's sinking!" I proceeded to ransack my sea-
chest for
suitable garments. Also, since they would never use them
again, I ransacked the sea chests of my shipmates. Working quickly
but collectedly, I took nothing but the warmest and stoutest of
clothes. I put on the four best woollen shirts the forecastle
boasted, three pairs of pants, and three pairs of thick woollen
socks. So large were my feet thus incased that I could not put on
my own good boots. Instead, I
thrust on Nicholas Wilton's new
boots, which were larger and even stouter than mine. Also, I put on
Jeremy Nalor's pea
jacket over my own, and, outside of both, put on
Seth Richard's thick
canvas coat which I remembered he had fresh-
oiled only a short while previous.
Two pairs of heavy mittens, John Robert's muffler which his mother
had knitted for him, and Joseph Dawes'
beaver cap atop my own, both
bearing ear-and neck-flaps, completed my outfitting. The shouts
that the brig was sinking redoubled, but I took a minute longer to
fill my pockets with all the plug
tobacco I could lay hands on.
Then I climbed out on deck, and not a moment too soon.
The moon, bursting through a crack of cloud, showed a bleak and
savage picture. Everywhere was wrecked gear, and everywhere was
ice. The sails, ropes, and spars of the mainmast, which was still
standing, were fringed with icicles; and there came over me a
feeling almost of
relief in that never again should I have to pull
and haul on the stiff tackles and
hammer ice so that the
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frozenropes could run through the
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frozen shivs. The wind, blowing half a
gale, cut with the sharpness that is a sign of the proximity of
icebergs; and the big seas were bitter cold to look upon in the
moonlight.
The longboat was lowering away to larboard, and I saw men,
struggling on the ice-sheeted deck with barrels of provisions,
abandon the food in their haste to get away. In vain Captain
Nicholl
strove with them. A sea, breaching across from windward,
settled the matter and sent them leaping over the rail in heaps. I
gained the captain's shoulder, and,
holding on to him, I shouted in
his ear that if he would board the boat and prevent the men from
casting off, I would attend to the provisioning.
Little time was given me, however. Scarcely had I managed, helped
by the second mate, Aaron Northrup, to lower away half-a-dozen
barrels and kegs, when all cried from the boat that they were
casting off. Good reason they had. Down upon us from windward was
drifting a
towering ice-mountain, while to leeward, close aboard,
was another ice-mountain upon which we were driving.
Quicker in his leap was Aaron Northrup. I delayed a moment, even as
the boat was shoving away, in order to select a spot amidships where
the men were thickest, so that their bodies might break my fall. I
was not
minded to
embark with a broken member on so
hazardous a
voyage in the longboat. That the men might have room at the oars, I
worked my way quickly aft into the sternsheets. Certainly, I had
other and sufficient reasons. It would be more comfortable in the
sternsheets than in the narrow bow. And further, it would be well
to be near the afterguard in
whatever troubles that were sure to
arise under such circumstances in the days to come.
In the sternsheets were the mate, Walter Drake, the
surgeon, Arnold
Bentham, Aaron Northrup, and Captain Nicholl, who was steering. The
surgeon was bending over Northrup, who lay in the bottom groaning.
Not so
fortunate had he been in his ill-considered leap, for he had
broken his right leg at the hip joint.
There was little time for him then, however, for we were labouring
in a heavy sea directly between the two ice islands that were
rushing together. Nicholas Wilton, at the stroke oar, was cramped
for room; so I better stowed the barrels, and, kneeling and facing
him, was able to add my weight to the oar. For'ard, I could see
John Roberts straining at the bow oar. Pulling on his shoulders
from behind, Arthur Haskins and the boy, Benny Hardwater, added
their weight to his. In fact, so eager were all hands to help that
more than one was thus in the way and cluttered the movements of the
rowers.
It was close work, but we went clear by a matter of a hundred yards,
so that I was able to turn my head and see the
untimely end of the
Negociator. She was caught
squarely in the pinch and she was
squeezed between the ice as a sugar plum might be squeezed between
thumb and
forefinger of a boy. In the shouting of the wind and the
roar of water we heard nothing, although the crack of the brig's
stout ribs and deckbeams must have been enough to waken a
hamlet on
a
peaceful night.
Silently, easily, the brig's sides squeezed together, the deck
bulged up, and the crushed
remnant dropped down and was gone, while
where she had been was occupied by the grinding
conflict of the ice-
islands. I felt regret at the
destruction of this haven against the
elements, but at the same time was well pleased at thought of my
snugness inside my four shirts and three coats.
Yet it proved a bitter night, even for me. I was the warmest clad
in the boat. What the others must have suffered I did not care to
dwell upon over much. For fear that we might meet up with more ice
in the darkness, we bailed and held the boat bow-on to the seas.
And
continually" target="_blank" title="ad.不断地,频繁地">
continually, now with one mitten, now with the other, I rubbed
my nose that it might not
freeze. Also, with memories
lively in me
of the home
circle in Elkton, I prayed to God.
In the morning we took stock. To
commence with, all but two or
three had suffered frost-bite. Aaron Northrup,
unable to move
because of his broken hip, was very bad. It was the
surgeon's
opinion that both of Northrup's feet were
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frozen.
The longboat was deep and heavy in the water, for it was burdened by
the entire ship's company of twenty-one. Two of these were boys.
Benny Hardwater was a bare thirteen, and Lish Dickery, whose family
was near neighbour to mine in Elkton, was just turned sixteen. Our
provisions consisted of three hundred-weight of beef and two
hundred-weight of pork. The half-dozen loaves of brine-pulped
bread, which the cook had brought, did not count. Then there were
three small barrels of water and one small keg of beer.
Captain Nicholl
frankly admitted that in this uncharted ocean he had