Part 3
The time of our deliverance, however, which we had so long given up as hopeless, was now near at hand. The years we had passed among the savages had not taken from my memory the scenes of home, and happiness, and England; but since the departure of the last vessel that touched at the shore of the island, the thoughts of my friends and relations had come to my remembrance as forcibly as if it was only the day before that had been passed in their company, and in my mind it was but a week since events of the most pleasing kind had happened; and I had brooded over these reflections till my body had wasted to a mere skeleton, through the melancholy exertions of my mind; aided, no doubt, by the sickness which neglect, thus involuntarily induced, had attacked my weakened frame.
I used to delight to tell William about his father and mother; how they left a far off country in a large canoe; and of the storm, when he was nearly killed; how his mother kissed and fondled him to her bosom, when I brought him to her. Then that he had a brother, who came with us in the ship and played with him, till in the storm the ship was wrecked and broke to pieces; how we all were nearly starved to death; and at last escaped on the rafts; that his father and mother, and nurse, with many more men, were killed by the natives of Boydan: and we had left his brother there among the savages, and had not seen them since; and of Dupper’s buying us, and bringing us to this island, and how kind he was.
These recitals would bring tears into the eyes of my young wondering listener, showing that the impression was made upon his mind. How his tears pleased me! His simple questions upon these occasions were answered with an eagerness which showed with what deepness thought had fixed them on my memory. I need not add, how these things made me love the infant that God had thus thrown, as I thought, into my charge; nor how I resolved to endeavor, as far as my means would enable me, to cherish and protect him in his helplessness.
I had asked Dupper to enquire what had become of George Doyley and John Sexton, if he should at any time happen to meet with one of the natives of Boydan. He could not learn any tidings for a long time; but at length he told me that he understood they were both dead.
Some time after this, I heard two of the natives conversing, and one of them said that the youngest white boy at Boydan, (this was George Doyley,) had got sick and died; and that the other one (John Sexton,) had been speared by one of the natives.
One evening, Dupper’s brother was obliged to leave his house to do some business, and some of Dupper’s family, with myself, were asked to go there to take care of it during his absence. This house was on the hills.
The next morning, I saw a vessel come round the point of the island, and soon after drop her anchor near the shore. I immediately went down to the beach, where I saw several canoes paddling off. I attempted to get into one of them, but Dupper would not let me. I tried very hard to prevail on him to let me go, but for some time he would not consent. He told me to hide myself among the trees on the hills, for he was sure the people on board the ship would kill me.
After much persuasion, upon my telling him that I did not want to leave him, but only to procure some axes and other articles, he with reluctance allowed me to get into his canoe. We then went off to the ship. I was fearful lest some misunderstanding should take place, so I asked Dupper to request silence until I had spoken with the people in the ship. The natives accordingly did not speak.
When we got within a short distance, a person hailed me, and asked what ship I came out in. I answered, “In the Charles Eaton.” He then asked me whether there were any more white people on the island? I replied, “Only a child about four or five years old.” He then told me to come along-side, which I did, and was then taken on board.
My agitation was so great, that I could scarcely answer the questions which were put to me; and it was some time before I recovered my self-possession. Captain Lewis took me down into the cabin, and gave me a shirt, a pair of trowsers, and a straw hat. He ordered some bread and cheese and beer for me; but the thoughts of again revisiting my home and friends prevented me from eating much of it.
He asked me what had become of the remaining passengers and crew. I told him, as near as I could, all that had happened; that they were all murdered, with the exception of five men who had escaped in a cutter. He then told me that his ship had been fitted out in search of us. For this kindness on the part of government, I can not enough express my sincere thanks, and my sorrow that it should meet with so small a return.
Dupper and several of the natives had come on board, and Captain Lewis told me to desire them to bring William. They said he was on the other side of the island, (this was the case,) but that they would bring him the next day. Captain Lewis then said that he would allow no trading till the child was on board. Most of the natives returned to the island in the evening; and those that remained, slept on deck, with a sail to cover them. Dupper and Oby were allowed to sleep with me.
Next day, the natives made a great many excuses against bringing William on board; they said he was crying, and would not leave the women. I told them that unless they brought him, they would not be allowed to trade. About the middle of the day he was brought. At first, he seemed frightened at the strangers, and did not like parting with his old black friends; but I did my best to pacify him, and he soon became used to the new faces.
One of the sailors made him a frock and trowsers, and another gave him a cap; he looked very curious in them, but at first they made him uncomfortable. I have the cap now in my possession.
The natives of these islands are much given to pilfering. One of them was seen taking a knife, and was immediately sent out of the ship. I saw Dupper steal a pair of compasses, but I said nothing about it to any one: I did not like to offend him.
The next night, Captain Lewis amused the islanders with a display of rockets, and firing of great guns, with which they were highly delighted.
Before the ship sailed, Dupper went and collected a quantity of cocoa-nuts, yams, and tobacco, which he brought on board for me. He then asked who was to have the care of my canoe, bow and arrows, and other articles? I said, his son Bowdoo; with which he seemed very well satisfied.
He seemed to feel pained at parting; he cried, hugged me, and then cried again; at last he told me to come back soon, and bring him plenty of things, and not to forget ‘torre’. I then bade farewell to the poor old man, and the rest of the natives, who patted and fondled William in his new dress, and on Tuesday, the 28th of June, at about eight o’clock in the morning, we left Murray’s Island.
The Isabella schooner had been fitted out to search the islands for the white people who had been shipwrecked in the Charles Eaton, or might be left on them from any shipwreck. I went with the vessel to all those islands they had not searched before they discovered us; and my speaking the language was of great service.
On one of the islands, we found a figure made of tortoise shell, painted something like a man’s face, round which were tied forty-five skulls. These we took on board. We observed that they were more or less injured. Several of them were supposed to have belonged to Europeans, and one to a woman.
Our voyage was prosperous, and we arrived at Sidney without any accident. Great excitement had been caused in this place by the melancholy disappearance of so many persons; and the rumor of our story, and of the fate of the Charles Eaton and crew, made William and myself objects of great curiosity.
I was taken to the governor of the colony, Sir Richard Bourke; to whom I related as much of this narrative as I could recollect. I had forty shillings given to me by the captain of the Japan, a whaler that we passed on our journey home. This money enabled me to buy some clothes. Sir Richard Bourke placed some money in the hands of a person in Sidney, to defray my expenses during the time I stayed there; the remainder of which sum I have received since my arrival in London.
A lady named Mrs. Slade, whose husband is a government officer in Sidney, hearing that the name of one of the boys brought by the Isabella was Doyley, made inquiries respecting him, and found that he was the son of an old and esteemed friend. She immediately requested permission to take charge of poor William; who was accordingly given into her charge.
Our health, which had been improving during the passage home, now began to recover quickly. We had every attention paid to us that was possible; our cancers were subjected to medical treatment, and in a few weeks I was completely cured.
I stayed here five months, hoping to accompany William to England; but a boy threw a stone at him, which severely hurt his head, and threw him again on a bed of sickness, and deferred his departure. At the time I left, he was recovering fast.
Not wishing to be longer dependent on the bounty of any person, and an opportunity offering, of a situation on board the Florentia, commanded by Captain Deloitte, bound to London, I took my farewell of William and my other kind friends, and went on board in the month of February.
We set sail, and experienced a little rough weather on our passage, but arrived in London without accident, in August.
I had now been absent from England nearly four years; and it is impossible to describe my feelings when again putting my foot upon its long-desired ground; none but those similarly situated can understand them. All I wish the kind reader to do, is to avoid the savages of Boydan, but lend a helping hand to civilize the kind natives of Murray’s Island, and the Indians of Torres Straits.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected typographical errors. 2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Shipwrecked Orphans, by John Ireland