The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg, and Other Stories
May 22. Last night wind headed us off, so that part of the time
we had to steer east-south-east and then west-north-west, and so
on. This morning we were all startled by a cry of 'SAIL HO!' Sure
enough, we could see it! And for a time we cut adrift from the
second mate's boat, and steered so as to attract its attention.
This was about half-past five A.M. After sailing in a state of
high excitement for almost twenty minutes we made it out to be the
chief mate's boat. Of course we were glad to see them and have
them report all well; but still it was a bitter disappointment to
us all. Now that we are in the trades it seems impossible to make
northing enough to strike the isles. We have determined to do the
best we can, and get in the route of vessels. Such being the
determination, it became necessary to cast off the other boat,
which, after a good deal of unpleasantness, was done, we again
dividing water and stores, and taking Cox into our boat. This
makes our number fifteen. The second mate's crew wanted to all
get in with us, and cast the other boat adrift. It was a very
painful separation.
So these isles that they have struggled for so long and so hopefully
have to be given up. What with lying birds that come to mock, and isles
that are but a dream, and 'visions of ships that come to naught,' it is
a pathetic time they are having, with much heartbreak in it. It was odd
that the vanished boat, three days lost to sight in that vast solitude,
should appear again. But it brought Cox--we can't be certain why. But if
it hadn't, the diarist would never have seen the land again.
Our chances as we go west increase in regard to being picked up,
but each day our scanty fare is so much reduced. Without the fish,
turtle, and birds sent us, I do not know how we should have got
along. The other day I offered to read prayers morning and evening
for the captain, and last night commenced. The men, although of
various nationalities and religions, are very attentive, and
always uncovered. May God grant my weak endeavour its issue!
Latitude, May 24, 14 degrees 18 minutes N. Five oysters apiece for
dinner and three spoonfuls of juice, a gill of water, and a piece of
biscuit the size of a silver dollar. 'We are plainly getting
weaker--God have mercy upon us all!' That night heavy seas break over
the weather side and make everybody wet and uncomfortable besides
requiring constant baling.
Next day 'nothing particular happened.' Perhaps some of us would have
regarded it differently. 'Passed a spar, but not near enough to see what
it was.' They saw some whales blow; there were flying-fish skimming
the seas, but none came aboard. Misty weather, with fine rain, very
penetrating.
Latitude, May 26, 15 degrees 50 minutes. They caught a flying-fish and
a booby, but had to eat them raw. 'The men grow weaker, and, I think,
despondent; they say very little, though.' And so, to all the other
imaginable and unimaginable horrors, silence is added--the muteness
and brooding of coming despair. 'It seems our best chance to get in the
track of ships with the hope that some one will run near enough to our
speck to see it.' He hopes the other boards stood west and have been
picked up. (They will never be heard of again in this world.)
Sunday, May 27, Latitude 16 degrees 0 minutes 5 seconds;
longitude, by chronometer, 117 degrees 22 minutes. Our fourth
Sunday! When we left the ship we reckoned on having about ten
days' supplies, and now we hope to be able, by rigid economy, to
make them last another week if possible.(1) Last night the sea was
comparatively quiet, but the wind headed us off to about
west-north-west, which has been about our course all day to-day.
Another flying-fish came aboard last night, and one more to-day
--both small ones. No birds. A booby is a great catch, and a good
large one makes a small dinner for the fifteen of us--that is, of
course, as dinners go in the 'Hornet's' long-boat. Tried this
morning to read the full service to myself, with the Communion,
but found it too much; am too weak, and get sleepy, and cannot
give strict attention; so I put off half till this afternoon. I
trust God will hear the prayers gone up for us at home to-day, and
graciously answer them by sending us succour and help in this our
season of deep distress.
The next day was 'a good day for seeing a ship.' But none was seen. The
diarist 'still feels pretty well,' though very weak; his brother Henry
'bears up and keeps his strength the best of any on board.' 'I do not
feel despondent at all, for I fully trust that the Almighty will hear
our and the home prayers, and He who suffers not a sparrow to fall sees
and cares for us, His creatures.'
Considering the situation and circumstances, the record for next day,
May 29, is one which has a surprise in it for those dull people who
think that nothing but medicines and doctors can cure the sick. A little
starvation can really do more for the average sick man than can the best
medicines and the best doctors. I do not mean a restricted diet; I mean
total abstention from food for one or two days. I speak from experience;
starvation has been my cold and fever doctor for fifteen years, and has
accomplished a cure in all instances. The third mate told me in Honolulu
that the 'Portyghee' had lain in his hammock for months, raising his
family of abscesses and feeding like a cannibal. We have seen that in
spite of dreadful weather, deprivation of sleep, scorching, drenching,
and all manner of miseries, thirteen days of starvation 'wonderfully
recovered' him. There were four sailors down sick when the ship was
burned. Twenty-five days of pitiless starvation have followed, and now
we have this curious record: 'All the men are hearty and strong; even
the ones that were down sick are well, except poor Peter.' When I wrote
an article some months ago urging temporary abstention from food as
a remedy for an inactive appetite and for disease, I was accused of
jesting, but I was in earnest. 'We are all wonderfully well and strong,
comparatively speaking.' On this day the starvation regime drew its belt
a couple of buckle-holes tighter: the bread ration was reduced from the
usual piece of cracker the size of a silver dollar to the half of that,
and one meal was abolished from the daily three. This will weaken the
men physically, but if there are any diseases of an ordinary sort left
in them they will disappear.
Two quarts bread-crumbs left, one-third of a ham, three small cans
of oysters, and twenty gallons of water.--Captain's Log.
The hopeful tone of the diaries is persistent. It is remarkable. Look
at the map and see where the boat is: latitude 16 degrees 44 minutes,
longitude 119 degrees 20 minutes. It is more than two hundred miles
west of the Revillagigedo Islands, so they are quite out of the question
against the trades, rigged as this boat is. The nearest land available
for such a boat is the American group, six hundred and fifty miles
away, westward; still, there is no note of surrender, none even of
discouragement! Yet, May 30, 'we have now left: one can of oysters;
three pounds of raisins; one can of soup; one-third of a ham; three
pints of biscuit-crumbs.'
And fifteen starved men to live on it while they creep and crawl six
hundred and fifty miles. 'Somehow I feel much encouraged by this change
of course (west by north) which we have made to-day.' Six hundred and
fifty miles on a hatful of provisions. Let us be thankful, even after
thirty-two years, that they are mercifully ignorant of the fact that
it isn't six hundred and fifty that they must creep on the hatful, but
twenty-two hundred!
Isn't the situation romantic enough just as it stands? No. Providence
added a startling detail: pulling an oar in that boat, for common
seaman's wages, was a banished duke--Danish. We hear no more of him;
just that mention, that is all, with the simple remark added that 'he is
one of our best men'--a high enough compliment for a duke or any other
man in those manhood-testing circumstances. With that little glimpse
of him at his oar, and that fine word of praise, he vanishes out of our
knowledge for all time. For all time, unless he should chance upon this
note and reveal himself.
The last day of May is come. And now there is a disaster to report:
think of it, reflect upon it, and try to understand how much it
means, when you sit down with your family and pass your eye over your
breakfast-table. Yesterday there were three pints of bread-crumbs; this
morning the little bag is found open and some of the crumbs are missing.
'We dislike to suspect any one of such a rascally act, but there is
no question that this grave crime has been committed. Two days will
certainly finish the remaining morsels. God grant us strength to reach
the American group!' The third mate told me in Honolulu that in these
days the men remembered with bitterness that the 'Portyghee' had
devoured twenty-two days' rations while he lay waiting to be transferred
from the burning ship, and that now they cursed him and swore an oath
that if it came to cannibalism he should be the first to suffer for the
rest.
The captain has lost his glasses, and therefore he cannot read our
pocket prayer-books as much as I think he would like, though he is
not familiar with them.
Further of the captain: 'He is a good man, and has been most kind to
us--almost fatherly. He says that if he had been offered the command of
the ship sooner he should have brought his two daughters with him.' It
makes one shudder yet to think how narrow an escape it was.
The two meals (rations) a day are as follows: fourteen raisins and a
piece of cracker the size of a penny for tea; a gill of water, and a
piece of ham and a piece of bread, each the size of a penny, for
breakfast.--Captain's Log.
He means a penny in thickness as well as in circumference. Samuel
Ferguson's diary says the ham was shaved 'about as thin as it could be
cut.'
June 1. Last night and to-day sea very high and cobbling, breaking
over and making us all wet and cold. Weather squally, and there is
no doubt that only careful management--with God's protecting
care--preserved us through both the night and the day; and really
it is most marvellous how every morsel that passes our lips is
blessed to us. It makes me think daily of the miracle of the
loaves and fishes. Henry keeps up wonderfully, which is a great
consolation to me. I somehow have great confidence, and hope that
our afflictions will soon be ended, though we are running rapidly
across the track of both outward and inward bound vessels, and
away from them; our chief hope is a whaler, man-of-war, or some
Australian ship. The isles we are steering for are put down in
Bowditch, but on my map are said to be doubtful. God grant they
may be there!
Hardest day yet.--Captain's Log.
Doubtful! It was worse than that. A week later they sailed straight over
them.
June 2. Latitude 18 degrees 9 minutes. Squally, cloudy, a heavy
sea.... I cannot help thinking of the cheerful and comfortable
time we had aboard the 'Hornet.'
Two days' scanty supplies left--ten rations of water apiece and a
little morsel of bread. BUT THE SUN SHINES AND GOD IS MERCIFUL.
--Captain's Log.
Sunday, June 3. Latitude 17 degrees 54 minutes. Heavy sea all
night, and from 4 A.M. very wet, the sea breaking over us in
frequent sluices, and soaking everything aft, particularly. All