Chapter 20

The increased motion and rushing of the vessel through the water, the groaning of the masts, the howling of the gale, and the frequent trampling of the watch on deck, were prophetic of wet jackets to some of us; still, midshipman-like, we were as happy as a good dinner and some wine could make us, until the old gunner shoved his weather beaten phiz and bald pate in at the door. "Beg pardon Mr. Splinter, but if you will spare Mr. Cringle on the forecastle an hour, until the moon rises."--("Spare," quotha, "is his majesty's officer a joint stool?")--"Why, Mr. Kennedy, why? here, man, take a glass of grog." "I thank you sir." "It is coming on a roughish night, sir; the running ships should be crossing us hereabouts; indeed, more than once I thought there was a strange sail close aboard of us, the scud is flying so low, and in such white flakes; and none of us have an eye like Mr. Cringle, unless it be John Crow, and he is all but frozen." "Well, Tom, I suppose you will go."--Anglice, from a first lieutenant to a mid--

"Brush instanter."

Having changed my uniform for shag trowsers, pea-jacket and a south-west cap, I went forward and took my station, in no pleasant humor, on the stowed jib, with my arm around the stay. I had been half an hour there, the weather was getting worse, the rain was beating in my face, and the spray from the stern was splashing over me, as it roared through the waste of sparkling and hissing waters. I turned my back to the weather for a moment to press my hands on my straining eyes. When I opened them, I saw the gunner's gaunt and high-featured visage thrust anxiously forward; his profile looked as if rubbed over with phosphorus, and his whole person as if we had been playing at snap dragon. "What has come over you Mr. Kennedy? who's burning the blue light now?" "A wiser man than I must tell you that; look forward Mr. Cringle--look there; what do your books say to that?"

I looked forth, and saw at the extreme end of the jib-boom, what I have read of, certainly, but never expected to see, a pale, greenish, glow-worm colored flame, of the size and shape of the frosted glass shade over the swinging lamp in the gun-room. It drew out and flattened as the vessel pitched and rose again, and as she sheered about, it wavered round the point that seemed to attract it, like a soap suds bubble blown from a tobacco-pipe, before it is shaken into the air; at the core it was comparatively bright, but faded into a halo. It shed a baleful and ominous light on the surrounding objects; the group of sailors on the forecastle looked like spectres, and they shrunk together, and whispered when it began to roll slowly along the spar where the boatswain was sitting at my feet. At this instant something slid down the stay, and a cold clammy hand passed around my neck. I was within an ace of losing my hold and tumbling overboard.--"Heaven have mercy on me what's that?" "It's that sky-larking son of a gun, Jem Sparkle's monkey, sir. You Jem, you'll never rest till that brute is made shark's bait of." But Jacko vanished up the stay again, chuckling and grinning in the ghastly radiance, as if he had been 'the spirit of the Lamp.' The light was still there, but a cloud of mist, like a burst of vapor from a steam boiler, came down upon the gale and flew past, when it disappeared. I followed the white mass as it sailed down the wind; it did not, as it appeared to me, vanish in the darkness, but seemed to remain in sight to leeward, as if checked by a sudden flaw; yet none of our sails were taken aback. A thought flashed on me. I peered still more intensely into the night. I was not certain.--"A sail, broad on the lee bow." The captain answered from the quarter-deck--"Thank you, Mr. Cringle. How shall we steer?" "Keep her away a couple of points, sir, steady." "Steady," sung the man at the helm; and a slow melancholy cadence, although a familiar sound to me, now moaned through the rushing wind, and smote upon my heart as if it had been the wailing of a spirit. I turned to the boatswain, who was now standing beside me, "is that you or Davy steering, Mr. Nipper? if you had not been there bodily at my side, I could have sworn that was your voice." When the gunner made the same remark, it started the poor fellow; he tried to take it as a joke, but could not. "There may be a laced hammock with a shot in it, for some of us ere morning."

At this moment, to my dismay, the object we were chasing shortened,--gradually fell abeam of us, and finally disappeared.

"The flying Dutchman." "I can't see her at all now."--"She will be a fore and aft rigged vessel that has tacked, sir." And sure enough, after a few seconds, I saw the white object lengthened and drew out again abaft our beam. "The chase has tacked, sir; put the helm down, or she will go to windward of us." We tacked also, and time it was we did so, for the rising moon now showed us a large schooner with a crowd of sail. We edged down on her, when finding her manoeuvre detected, she brailed up her flat sails and bore up before the wind. This was our best point of sailing, and we cracked on, the captain rubbing his hands--"It's my turn to be the big un this time." Although blowing a strong north-wester, it was now clear moonlight, and we hammered away from our bow guns, but whenever a shot told amongst the rigging, the injury was repaired as if by magic. It was evident we had repeatedly hulled her, from the glimmering white streaks across her counter and along her stern, occasioned by the splintering of the timber, but it seemed to produce no effect.

At length we drew well upon her quarter. She continued all black hull and white sail, not a soul to be seen on deck, except a dark object which we took for the man at the helm. "What schooner is that?" No answer. "Heave to, or I'll sink you." Still all silent. "Serjeant Armstrong, do you think you can pick off that chap at the wheel?" The mariner jumped on the forecastle, and levelled his piece, when a musket-shot from the schooner crushed through his skull, and he fell dead. The old skipper's blood was up. "Forecastle there! Mr. Nipper, clap a canister of grape over the round shot in the bow gun, give it to him." "Ay, ay, sir!" gleefully rejoined the boatswain, forgetting the augury, and everything else, in the excitement of the moment. In a twinkling the square foresail--topgallant--royal and studding-sail haulyards, were let go on board the schooner, as if to round to. "Rake him, sir, or give him the stern. He has not surrendered. I know their game. Give him your broadside, sir, or he is off to windward of you, like a shot. No, no, we have him now; heave to Mr. Splinter, heave to!" We did so, and that so suddenly, that the studding sail booms snapped like pipe shanks short off by the irons. Notwithstanding, we had shot two hundred yards to the leeward, before we could lay our maintopsail to the mast. I ran to windward. The schooner's yards and rigging were now black with men, clustering like bees swarming, her square sails were being close furled, her fore and aft sails set, and away she was, dead to windward of us. "So much for undervaluing our American friends," grumbled Mr. Splinter.

We made all sail in chase, blazing away to little purpose; we had no chance on a bowline, and when our 'Amigo' had satisfied himself of his superiority by one or two short tacks, he deliberately took a reef in his mainsail, hauled down his flying jib and gaff-topsail, triced up the bunt of his foresail, and fired his long thirty-two at us. The shot came in our third aftermost port on the starboard side, and dismounted the carronade, smashing the slide and wounding three men. The second missed, and as it was madness to remain to be peppered, probably winged, whilst every one of ours fell short, we reluctantly kept away on our course, having the gratification of hearing a clear well blown bugle on board the schooner play up "Yankee Doodle." As the brig fell off, our long gun was run out to have a parting crack at her, when the third and last shot from the schooner struck the sill of the midship port, and made the white splinters fly from the solid oak like bright silver sparks in the moonlight. A sharp, piercing cry rose in the air--my soul identified that death-shriek with the voice that I had heard, and I saw the man who was standing with the lanyard of the lock in his hand drop heavily across the breech, and discharge the gun in his fall. Thereupon a blood-red glare shot up in the cold blue sky, as if a volcano had burst forth from beneath the mighty deep, followed by a roar, and a scattering crash, and a mingling of unearthly cries and groans, and a concussion of the air and the water as if our whole broadside had been fired at once.--Then a solitary splash here, and a dip there, and short sharp yells, and low choking bubbling moans, as the hissing fragments of the noble vessel we had seen, fell into the sea, and the last of her gallant crew vanished forever beneath that pale broad moon. We were alone; and once more all was dark, wild and stormy. Fearfully had that ball sped fired by a dead man's hand. But what is it that clings, black and doubled, across the fatal cannon, dripping and heavy, and choking the scuppers with clotting gore, and swaying to and fro with the motion of the vessel, like a bloody fleece? "Who is it that was hit at the gun there?" "Mr. Nipper, the boatswain, sir, the last shot has cut him in two."

LOSS OF THE NAUTILUS, SLOOP OF WAR,

ON A ROCK IN THE ARCHIPELAGO.

A misunderstanding having originated between the Court of Great Britain, and the Ottoman Porte, a powerful squadron was ordered to proceed to Constantinople, for the purpose of enforcing compliance with rational propositions. The object, however, proved abortive; and the expedition terminated in a way which did not enhance the reputation of these islands in the eyes of the Turks.

Sir Thomas Louis, commander of the squadron sent to the Dardanelles, having charged Captain Palmer with dispatches of the utmost importance for England, the Nautilus got under weigh at daylight on the third of January 1807. A fresh breeze from N. E. carried her rapidly out of the Hellespont, passing the celebrated castles in the Dardanelles, which so severely galled the British. Soon afterwards she passed the island of Tenedos, off the north end of which, two vessels of war were seen at anchor; they hoisted Turkish colours, and in return the Nautilus showed those of Britain.--In the course of this day, many of the other islands abounding in the Greek Archipelago came in sight, and in the evening the ship approached the island of Negropont, lying in 38 30 north latitude, and 24 8 east longitude; but now the navigation became more intricate, from the increasing number of islands, and from the narrow entrance between Negropont and the island of Andros.

The wind still continued to blow fresh, and as night was approaching, with the appearance of being dark and squally, the pilot, who was a Greek, wished to lie to until morning, which was done accordingly; and at daylight the vessel again proceeded. His course was shaped for the island of Falconera, in a track which has been so elegantly described by Falconer, in a poem as far surpassing the uncouth productions of modern times, as the Ionian temples surpassed those flimsy structures contributing to render the fame of the originals eternal. This island, and that of Anti Milo, were made in the evening, the latter distant fourteen or sixteen miles from the more extensive island of Milo, which could not then be seen, from the thickness and haziness of the weather.

The pilot never having been beyond the present position of the Nautilus, and declaring his ignorance of the further bearings, now relinquished his charge, which was resumed by the captain. All possible attention was paid to the navigation, and Captain Palmer, after seeing Falconera so plainly, and anxious to fulfil his mission with the greatest expedition, resolved to stand on during the night. He was confident of clearing the Archipelago by morning, and himself pricked the course from the chart which was to be steered by the vessel. This he pointed out to his coxswain, George Smith, of whose ability he entertained a high opinion. Then he ordered his bed to be prepared, not having had his clothes off for the three preceding nights, and having scarce had any sleep from the time of leaving the Dardanelles.

A night of extreme darkness followed, with vivid lightning constantly flashing in the horizon; but this circumstance served to inspire the captain with a greater degree of confidence; for being enabled by it to see so much further at intervals, he thought, that should the ship approach any land, the danger would be discovered in sufficient time to be avoided.

The wind continued still increasing; and though the ship carried but little sail, she went at the rate of nine miles an hour, being assisted by a lofty following sea, which with the brightness of the lightning, made the night particularly awful. At half past two in the morning, high land was distinguished, which, those who saw it supposed to be the island of Cerigotto, and thence thought all safe, and that every danger had been left behind. The ship's course was altered to pass the island, and she continued on her course until half past four, at the changing of the watch, when the man on the look-out exclaimed, breakers ahead! and immediately the vessel struck with a most tremendous crash. Such was the violence of the shock, that people were thrown from their beds, and, on coming upon deck, were obliged to cling to the cordage. All was now confusion and alarm; the crew hurried on deck, which they had scarce time to do when the ladders below gave way, and indeed left many persons struggling in the water, which already rushed into the under part of the ship. The captain it appeared had not gone to bed, and immediately came on deck when the Nautilus struck; there having examined her situation, he immediately went round, accompanied by his second lieutenant, Mr. Nesbit, and endeavored to quiet the apprehensions of the people. He then returned to his cabin, and burnt his papers and private signals. Meantime every sea lifted up the ship, and then dashed her with irresistible force on the rocks; and in a short time, the crew were obliged to resort to the rigging, where they remained an hour, exposed to the surges incessantly breaking over them. There they broke out into the most lamentable exclamations, for their parents, children and kindred, and the distresses they themselves endured. The weather was so dark and hazy, that the rocks could be seen only at a very small distance, and in two minutes afterwards the ship had struck.

At this time the lightning had ceased, but the darkness of the night was such, that the people could not see the length of the ship from them; their only hope rested in the falling of the main-mast, which they trusted would reach a small rock, which was discovered very near them. Accordingly, about half an hour before day-break, the main-mast gave way, providentially falling towards the rock, and by means of it they were enabled to gain the land.

The struggles and confusion to which this incident gave birth, can better be conceived than described; some of the crew were drowned, one man had his arm broke, and many were cruelly lacerated; but Captain Palmer refused to quit his station, while any individual remained on board; and not until the whole of his people had gained the rock did he endeavor to save himself. At that time, in consequence of remaining by the wreck, he had received considerable personal injury, and must infallibly have perished, had not some of the seamen ventured through a tremendous sea to his assistance. The boats were staved in pieces; several of the people endeavored to haul in the jolly-boat, which they were incapable of accomplishing.

The hull of the vessel being interposed, sheltered the shipwrecked crew a long time from the beating of the surf; but as she broke up, their situation became more perilous every moment, and they soon found that they should be obliged to abandon the small portion of the rock, which they had reached, and wade to another apparently somewhat larger. The first lieutenant, by watching the breaking of the seas, had got safely thither, and it was resolved by the rest to follow his example. Scarce was this resolution formed, and attempted to be put into execution, when the people encountered an immense quantity of loose spars, which were immediately washed into the channel which they had to pass; but necessity would admit of no alternative. Many in crossing between the two rocks were severely wounded; and they suffered more in this undertaking than in gaining the first rock from the ship. The loss of their shoes was now felt in particular, for the sharp rocks tore their feet in a dreadful manner, and the legs of some were covered with blood.

Daylight beginning to appear, disclosed the horrors by which those unfortunate men were surrounded. The sea was covered with the wreck of their ill fated ship, many of their unhappy comrades were seen floating away on spars and timbers; and the dead and dying were mingled together without a possibility of the survivors affording assistance to any that might still be rescued. Two short hours had been productive of all this misery, the ship destroyed and her crew reduced to a situation of despair. Their wild and affrighted looks indicated the sensations by which they were agitated; but on being recalled to a sense of their real condition, they saw that they had nothing left but resignation to the will of heaven.

The shipwrecked mariners now discovered that they were cast away on a coral rock almost level with the water, about three or four hundred yards long, and two hundred broad.--They were at least twelve miles from the nearest islands, which were afterwards found to be those of Cerigotto and Pera, on the north end of Candia, about thirty miles distant. At this time it was reported, that a small boat, with several men, had escaped; and although the fact was true, the uncertainty of her fate induced those on the rock to confide in being relieved by any vessel accidentally passing in sight of a signal of distress they had hoisted on a long pole; the neighboring islands being too distant.

The weather had been extremely cold, and the day preceding the shipwreck ice had lain on the deck; now, to resist its inclemency, a fire was made, by means of a knife and a flint preserved in the pocket of one of the sailors; and with much difficulty, some damp powder, from a small barrel washed on shore, was kindled. A kind of tent was next made, with pieces of old canvass, boards, and such things as could be got about the wreck, and the people were thus enabled to dry the few clothes they had saved. But they passed a long and comfortless night, though partly consoled with the hope of their fire being descried in the dark, and taken for a signal of distress. Nor was this hope altogether disappointed.

When the ship first struck, a small whale-boat was hanging over the quarter, into which, an officer, George Smith the coxswain, and nine men, immediately got, and, lowering themselves into the water, happily escaped. After rowing three or four leagues against a very high sea, and the wind blowing hard, they reached the small island of Pera. This proved to be scarce a mile in circuit, and containing nothing but a few sheep and goats, belonging to the inhabitants of Cerigo, who come in the summer months to carry away their young. They could find no fresh water, except a small residue from rain in the hole of a rock, and that was barely sufficient though most sparingly used. During the night, having observed the fire above mentioned, the party began to conjecture that some of their shipmates might have been saved, for until then they had deemed their destruction inevitable.--The coxswain impressed with this opinion, proposed again hazarding themselves in the boat for their relief, and, although some feeble objections were offered against it, he continued resolute to his purpose, and persuaded four others to accompany him.

About nine in the morning of Tuesday, the second day of the shipwreck, the approach in the little whale-boat was descried by those on the rock; all uttered an exclamation of joy, and in return the surprise of the coxswain and his crew to find so many of their shipmates still surviving is not to be described. But the surf ran so high as to endanger the safety of the boat, and several of the people imprudently endeavored to get into it. The coxswain tried to persuade Captain Palmer to come to him, but he steadily refused, saying, "No, Smith, save your unfortunate shipmates, never mind me."--After some little consultation, he desired him to take the Greek pilot on board, and make the best of his way to Cerigotto, where the pilot said there were some families of fishermen, who doubtless would relieve their necessities.

But it appeared as if Heaven had ordained the destruction of this unfortunate crew, for, soon after the boat departed, the wind began to increase, and dark clouds gathering around, excited among those remaining behind all their apprehensions for a frightful storm. In a about two hours it commenced with the greatest fury; the waves rose considerably, and soon destroyed the fire. They nearly covered the rock, and compelled the men to fly to the highest part for refuge, which was the only one that could afford any shelter. There nearly ninety people passed a night of the greatest horrors; and the only means of preventing themselves from being swept away by the surf, which every moment broke over them, was by a small rope fastened round the summit of the rock, and with difficulty holding on by each other.

The fatigues which the people had previously undergone, added to what they now endured, proved too overpowering to many of their number; several became delirious; their strength was exhausted, and they could hold on no longer. Their afflictions were still further aggravated by an apprehension that the wind, veering more to the north, would raise the sea to their present situation, in which case a single wave would have swept them all into oblivion.

The hardships which the crew had already suffered were sufficient to terminate existence, and many had met with deplorable accidents. One in particular, while crossing the channel between the rocks at an unsuitable time, was dashed against them so as to be nearly scalped, and exhibited a dreadful spectacle to his companions. He lingered out the night, and next morning expired. The more fortunate survivors were but ill prepared to meet the terrible effects of famine; their strength enfeebled, their bodies unsheltered and abandoned by hope. Nor were they less alarmed for the fate of their boat. The storm came on before she could have reached the intended island, and on her safety their own depended. But the scene which daylight presented was still more deplorable. The survivors beheld the corpses of their departed shipmates, and some still in the agonies of death. They were themselves altogether exhausted, from the sea all night breaking over them, and the inclemency of the weather, which was such, that many, among whom was the carpenter, perished from excessive cold.