Tales of Shipwrecks and Other Disasters at Sea
Date: 2020-04-10T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Shipwreck survival -- Juvenile fiction; Adventure stories; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction; Children and death -- Juvenile fiction; Robinsonades; Glory of God -- Juvenile fiction

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Title: Tales of Shipwrecks and Other Disasters at Sea

Author: Thomas Bingley

Release date: April 10, 2020 [eBook #61803]
Most recently updated: October 17, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF SHIPWRECKS AND OTHER DISASTERS AT SEA ***

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Tales of Shipwrecks and Other Disasters at Sea, by Thomas Bingley

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Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/talesofshipwreck00bingrich

LOSS OF THE FORFARSHIRE.
Grace Darling and her father proceeding to the rescue of the survivers.—P. 184.

TALES
OF
SHIPWRECKS

AND OTHER

DISASTERS AT SEA.

BY THOMAS BINGLEY,

AUTHOR OF "STORIES ABOUT DOGS," ETC.

EMBELLISHED WITH ENGRAVINGS.

BOSTON:
TAPPAN & DENNET,
114 Washington Street.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
| Page
Uncle Thomas tells about the Adventures of Captain Richard Falconer, | 7
CHAPTER II.
Uncle Thomas continues his Narrative of Captain Falconer's Adventures, | 28
CHAPTER III.
Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Vryheid, | 51
CHAPTER IV.
Uncle Thomas tells about the Mutiny of the Bounty, | 75
CHAPTER V.
Uncle Thomas tells about the Loss of the Kent East Indiaman, | 104
CHAPTER VI.
Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Medusa, | 126
CHAPTER VII.
Uncle Thomas tells about the Loss of the Winterton East Indiaman, | 141
CHAPTER VIII.
Uncle Thomas tells about the Loss of the Royal George, | 153
CHAPTER IX.
Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Steamers Killarney and Forfarshire, | 164
CHAPTER X.
Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Albion New York Packet, | 189
CHAPTER XI.
Uncle Thomas tells of the Loss of the Doddington East Indiaman, | 202

TALES OF SHIPWRECKS

CHAPTER I. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN RICHARD FALCONER.

"Shipwrecks, Uncle Thomas! oh yes, we shall be delighted!" exclaimed three or four voices, as the boys crowded round the fire, each striving who should sit nearest their kind old Uncle, who delighted to amuse them by telling them the nicest little stories in the world, of which, in the course of his reading, he had gathered together a great store. He had already related to them, with much applause, a variety of "Stories about Dogs," as well as "Stories about the Instinct of Animals," and now proposed to commence a series of narratives, "Tales of Shipwrecks, and other Disasters at Sea," a proposal which his little audience, as we have above stated, received with unbounded delight.

I am glad you have chosen Shipwrecks, Uncle Thomas, I am so very fond of such stories. I have just finished Robinson Crusoe, and almost wish I was, like him, cast away on a desert island, that I might have my man Friday, and my goat, and my gun!—It would be delightful!

I am afraid, Frank, you would not find it so delightful as you seem to think. However, as you like it so much, I will begin my tales by relating the adventures of Captain Richard Falconer, who was cast away on a desert island, and show you how he fared.

Falconer was a native of Bruton, England. His mother died when he was very young, and being thus thrown on his father's care, he was his constant companion. Having been a great traveller in his youth, the elder Falconer delighted to recount his adventures, and his son thus acquired an ardent desire to follow in his steps. With this view, as he grew up, he often begged that his father would allow him to become a sailor. His father knew better, however, and always replied to his solicitations by saying, "Stay where you are; you know not the hazards and dangers that attend the life of a sailor: think no more of going to sea, for I know that it is only the desire of youth, fond of change, which now actuates you; and if I were to give you leave, one week's voyage would make you wish you were at home!" Young Falconer, however, was not satisfied with this reasoning, and again and again besought his father to comply with his request. All his entreaties were, however, unavailing, till at length an event happened which put an end to his father's scruples.

The elder Falconer held the situation of collector of taxes, and having collected a large amount of revenue, he was unfortunately robbed of it, before he could pay it over to government. Fearful that some negligence, of which he had no doubt been guilty, would expose him to punishment, and being thus a ruined man, he resolved to retire to some place where he was unknown, and thus escape the vigilance of his enemies.

One morning he called his son to him, and said, "Richard, you have often been desirous of going to sea, and I have always endeavored to dissuade you from it; but as what has happened makes it impossible for me to remain any longer in the place of my birth, I must now recommend you to the way of life which I should never have chosen for you, but that my circumstances will not now allow me to provide for you in any other way. Here," continued he, "take this money, which I can ill spare out of my little fortune; but since it is all I can do for you, take it, and may Heaven prosper you! May the blessing of a father, whose prayers shall ever be sent to the Almighty Creator for your welfare, always be with you. Here is a letter to Captain Pultney, of Bristol, whose friendship, I am sure, will be of service to you." Then, with tears in his eyes, he embraced his son, and once more gave him his blessing, and took his leave forever. They never saw each other again!

Having packed up a few things in a portmanteau, Falconer gave them to an old servant of his father's, who, to show his gratitude in the only way he had in his power, determined to see him as far as Bristol. They set out in the morning, and reached it by noon.

Captain Pultney received him with great cordiality, and promised to do everything in his power to promote his views, and when, by his advice, Falconer had studied the mathematics, and he thought him capable of performing the duties of mate, he sent him on board the Albion frigate, commanded by Captain Wise; and, on the 2nd of May, they set sail for Jamaica, with a fair wind. As soon as they lost sight of land, Falconer began to be extremely sea-sick, and he bore the rough jokes of the sailors very indifferently. One cried out, "There's an excellent master's-mate; he'll hit Jamaica to a hair, if the island was no bigger than the bung-hole of a cask!" However, in a day or two, he perfectly recovered, and was never afterwards troubled with sea-sickness.

Nothing material happened till they entered the Bay of Biscay, when they encountered a dreadful storm; the billows ran very high, and the vessel seemed to be the sport of the waves. So high did these run, that a ship, that overtook the Albion the day before, and accompanied it, was sometimes altogether lost sight of, though they were not half a furlong distant from each other: this continued for three days, when the storm abated something of its fierceness, though it still blew very hard. The other vessel, by firing a gun and showing a signal, made it appear that she was in distress; but the sea ran so high, that it was impossible to afford her any assistance; yet, the Albion, being to windward, bore down upon her, to be as near as possible without endangering her own safety. They found that she had sprung a leak, and though they had all hands by turns at the pump, yet the water gained upon them. They begged the crew of the Albion to hoist out a boat, as their own was stove. They accordingly sent out their long-boat, with two men, but the rope that held her to the ship unfortunately broke, and she drove away with the two men in her, who were never afterwards heard of. They undoubtedly were either swallowed up by the sea, or perished of hunger, as they were then twenty leagues from shore. The ship sunk in less than ten minutes afterwards, with fifty-seven men on board, of whom four only were saved by clinging to the ropes which had been thrown out to them by the crew of the Albion.

From the four men who were thus saved, they learned that the vessel, which had sunk, was a pirate, which, but a short time before, had attacked a French ship, murdered the captain, and such of the crew as would not agree to join them, and that they were only waiting for the abating of the storm in order to attack the Albion. They also said, they were forced, with several others, to become pirates; but whether this was true or false, they behaved with great propriety during the remainder of the voyage.

On the 28th of May they made the Canaries, and saw the peak of Teneriffe. On the 4th of July, they anchored in Carlisle Bay, Barbadoes, after a desperate action with a pirate, who boarded them, but was beat off. On the 20th of July they sailed for Jamaica, on the 1st of August anchored at Nevis, and on the 7th of September arrived in Port Royal harbor.

Finding that the affairs of the ship would detain it about half a year in Jamaica, Falconer obtained leave of the captain to go in a sloop, with some of his companions, to obtain logwood, at the Bay of Campeachy, on the South American coast; and on the 25th of September, they set out on this expedition. For six days they sailed merrily on their course, with a fair wind, towards the Bay; but on the seventh, the clouds darkened, and the welkin seemed all on fire with lightning, and the thunder roared with frightful violence. In short, a dreadful hurricane approached. The sailors had furled their sails and lowered their topmasts, waiting for it under a double-reefed foresail. At length it came with extreme violence, which lasted three hours, until, as if exhausted, it insensibly abated, and was followed by a complete calm.

On the 6th of October they anchored at Trist Island, in the Bay of Campeachy, and sent their men ashore at Logwood Creek, to seek for the logwood cutters, who immediately came on board. The bargain was soon struck; and, in exchange for rum and sugar, and a little money, they got in their cargo in eight days, and again set sail for Jamaica.

During the homeward voyage, Falconer one day went down into the hold to bottle off a small parcel of wine which he had there: on coming upon deck again, wanting to wash himself, he went into the boat astern, which had been hoisted out in the morning to look after a wreck. Having washed and dressed himself, he took a book out of his pocket, and sat reading in the boat; when, before he was aware, a storm began to rise, and finding that he could not get up at the ship's side as usual, he called for the ladder of ropes that hangs over the ship's quarter, in order to get up that way. Whether it broke through rottenness, it being seldom used, is uncertain, but down he fell into the sea; and though the ship immediately tacked about to take him up, yet, as evening was now coming on, and the storm had considerably increased, they soon lost sight of him. For some time he swam boldly in the direction in which he expected to see the vessel, but at length he was forced to drive with the wind, which, fortunately, set in with the current; and having managed to keep himself above water for about four hours, he felt his feet touch the ground; and at last, by a great wave, was thrown upon the sand.

It being now quite dark, he knew not what to do; but got up and walked as well as his numbed limbs would let him, and every now and then was overtaken by the waves, which were not high enough, however, to wash him away. When he had got far enough, as he thought, to be out of danger, he began to examine what sort of place it was upon which he had been thrown: he could not, however, discover anything of land, and conjectured that it was but some bank of sand, that the sea would overflow at high tide. He now sat down to rest his weary limbs, and prepare himself for death, which, it was evident, was now staring him in the face. At last he fell asleep, though he tried all he could to prevent it, by getting up and walking, till he was obliged, through weariness, to lie down again.

When he awoke in the morning, he found that he was on a low, sandy island, surrounded by several others of the same description, and separated from each other, about half a mile or more, by the sea. Finding that things were thus not quite so bad as he had anticipated, he became a little cheerful, and walked about to see if he could discover anything that was eatable, as he now began to get very hungry; but, to his great grief, he found nothing but a few eggs, which he was obliged to eat raw. The fear of starving seemed now to be worse than that of drowning; and often did he wish that the sea had swallowed him, rather than have thrown him on this desolate island; for he could perceive, from their flatness, that they were not inhabited either by man or beast, being only resorted to by sea-fowl. To complete his misery, there was not to be found one drop of fresh water on the island, so that he was forced to drink sea-water for two or three days, which caused his skin to peel off, and made him very ill. At last his misery so increased, that he frequently resolved to terminate his existence, but desisted, in the expectation that some alligator, or other voracious creature, would come and do it for him.

One day he discovered a bird, called a booby, sitting upon a bush, and ran immediately, as fast as he could, and knocked it down with a stick. Without for a moment considering whether it was proper food, he sucked the blood and ate the flesh with such a pleasure, as none can express but those who have felt the pain of hunger to the same degree. He afterwards discovered many more of these birds, which he killed. Being now pretty well off for food, he began to consider whether he could not with two sticks make a fire, as he had seen the blacks do in Jamaica, and at last, after many trials, happily accomplished it. He then plucked several of the boobies which he had caught, and broiled them as well as he could.

At night, he was exposed to a great storm of rain and thunder, with the reddest lightning he had ever seen, and was completely drenched; his clothes, which consisted of a pair of thin shoes and thread stockings, and a canvass waistcoat and trowsers, were thoroughly wet; but he had the happiness to find in the morning several cavities of rain-water. Having already suffered so much from using sea-water, he now thought of making a deep well, that he might have water continually by him. He took a piece of wood, and pitched upon a place under a bush, where, with his hands and the stick together, he dug a hole, big enough to contain a hogshead of water; then he put in stones and paved it, and got in and stamped them down hard all round, and, with his stick, beat the sides close, so as to make it completely water-tight. But the great difficulty was how to get the water there: this, however, he at length effected, by means of a sort of bucket made from a part of his clothing. Having been so successful in this matter, he now felt greatly elated, and thought he should not be very badly off for a long while; for, besides the store of water, he had, ready broiled, forty boobies, designing to allow himself half a one a-day. Fortunately, he remained always in good health, being only a little troubled with headache, from the sun beating on his head, having lost his hat in the water, in falling down from the vessel's side. For a time he remedied this as well as he could, by gathering a parcel of chicken-weed, which grew in plenty around, and strewing it over the bushes under which he sat; but at last, finding that he might be longer there than he expected, he tore off one of the sleeves of his shirt, and made himself a cap, which he covered with green sprigs, twisted with bark.

By the time he had been a month on the island, his skin became as brown, by constant exposure, as if it had been rubbed over with walnut shells. He several times thought of swimming to one of the other islands; but as they looked only like heaps of sand, he felt convinced that he had got the best berth, so contented himself with his station. He began, however, to feel very lonely, and was so wicked as to wish to have companions in his misfortune, and every day hoped either to see some vessel come that way, or a wreck, where, perhaps, he might find some necessaries which he wanted. He used to fancy, that if he should be forced to stay there long, he should lose his speech; so he used to talk aloud, asking himself questions, and answering them. If anybody had been by to have heard him, they would certainly have thought him crazy, he often asked himself such strange questions. He was destined to be visited by companions in misfortune sooner than he expected; but I must tell you how this happened on some other occasion. I am afraid I have already detained you too long this evening.

Oh no, Uncle Thomas!

Very well, boys, to-morrow evening I will go on with Captain Falconer's adventures, and we will see how Frank likes this sort of life on a desert island.

Ah, but Uncle Thomas, this was not a nice island, like Robinson Crusoe's! There were no large trees to make a canoe of, or any goats; and I don't see very well where Friday is to come from!

I understand you, Frank; you would like it only if you had the choosing of your place, with plenty of conveniences of every kind. Good night.

CHAPTER II. UNCLE THOMAS CONTINUES HIS NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN FALCONER'S ADVENTURES.

One morning, during Falconer's residence on the sandy island, of which I told you last evening, a violent storm arose, which continued till noon. In the meantime, Falconer discovered a ship laboring with the waves, and having watched it earnestly for several hours, he at last saw it tossed by the violence of the tempest completely out of the water upon the shore. He ran to see if there were anybody whom he could assist, when he found four men (being all there were in the vessel) busy saving what they could. When he hailed them in English, they seemed mightily surprised; and asked him how he came there, and how long he had been on the island. When he told them his story, and described the barrenness of the place, they were very much concerned for themselves, for they feared there was no possibility of getting their bark off the sands, the wind having forced her so far; and began to bemoan each other's misfortunes. To Falconer, however, their mishap afforded a source of secret satisfaction, for he soon found that they had on board plenty of everything.

They now set to work in order to secure such provisions as were in the ship, as well as such utensils as they would find useful, including a fowling-piece and some gunpowder. They then took off the sails from the yards, and, with some pieces of timber, raised a hut big enough to hold twenty men, under which they put the beds which they got from the bark. It is true they had no shelter from the wind, for the bushes were so low they were of no use; but for all this, Falconer now thought himself in a palace, and was as merry as if he had been once more at Jamaica, or even at home in his own country. In short, when they had been there some time, they began to be very easy, and having plenty of food, were content to wait patiently till God should send them assistance.

Though they had plenty of fishing tackle, they found it of little use, as they had no boat to go a little way from shore to catch fish; they therefore set their wits to work, in order to make a float, and at last they hit upon this odd project: they took six casks, and tarred them all over, then stopped up the bung-holes with corks, and nailed them close down with a piece of tarred canvass. These six casks they tied together with some of the cordage of the vessel, and upon them they placed the moveable hatches from the deck, and fixed them, and made the float so strong, that two men might sit upon it; but for fear a sudden storm should arise, while they happened to be at sea, they tied to one end of it a coil or two of small rope, of 500 fathoms long, which they fixed to a stake on the shore. Two of the party then went out, in order to see what success they should have; but returned with only one fish, about two feet long, something like a shark. Next day, however, they were more successful, returning with two of the same kind of fish, and a young shark about two feet long, which were dressed for dinner, and proved excellent eating.

They now began to consider what could be done to enable them to escape from their confinement. On examining their ship carefully, they found that it was all sound; and though the violence of the storm had carried it considerably beyond the reach of ordinary tides, and though nearly buried by the drifting of the sand, that there was nothing to prevent their being able to launch it into deep water once more. They therefore set determinedly to work, and after sixteen days' hard labor, they at last succeeded.

At length, on the 31st of December, they launched their vessel, and designing to set sail on the following day, they resolved to celebrate their deliverance by a carousal. They accordingly got very merry, and when their punch was all done, they went to bed. Instead of sleeping in the tent, however, Falconer remained on board the bark, while his companions, as usual, slept on shore. During the night, one of the sudden storms, so common in these latitudes, arose, and tore the bark from its moorings, and carried it out to sea, Falconer all the time sleeping soundly below, quite unconscious of the danger to which he was exposed.

By the time he awoke in the morning, the storm had so much abated, that he remained unconscious of what had happened, till going on deck to call his companions, he found that he was in the middle of the ocean, far out of sight of land.

For fourteen days, he continued tossed about at the mercy of the winds and waves. During the whole time, he saw but one ship, but it was at such a distance, and bore away so fast, that no succor could be expected. At length his vessel was driven so close in shore as to attract notice. He was then boarded by two canoes, containing one Spaniard and six Indians, to whom, by means of broken French, he explained his condition. They carried him on shore, and introduced him to the governor, by whom he was kindly received. The place happened to be a Spanish settlement on the coast of South America.

By the kindness of the governor, the ship was once more fitted out, and manned, to go in search of Falconer's companions, who had been left on the island. In fifteen days they reached the island, where they found them in a most pitiable condition. They had consumed all their provisions, and had no means of getting more; indeed, for some days they had subsisted on the most filthy and revolting food.

Having received them on board, they again set sail; and it now occurred to Falconer that, in order to complete his equipment, five of the men who composed his crew had been released from prison, where they had been confined on suspicion of piracy. A thought came into his head, which had escaped him before. He considered if these were really pirates, being five to four, they might be too powerful for him and the rest of his crew, and perhaps murder them. One day, as they all dined together upon deck, under an awning, it being very calm weather, he asked the five men, what was the reason that they were taken for pirates by the Spaniards. At first they seemed nonplussed; but one of them, named Warren, soon recovered himself, and answered for the others, saying that they embarked on board the ship Bonaventure, in the Thames, bound for Jamaica, whither they made a prosperous voyage; but after taking in their cargo, on their way home, they were overtaken by a storm, in which their ship was lost, and all the men perished, except himself and four companions, who were saved in the long-boat; and that as they were making to shore to save themselves, they saw a bark riding at anchor without the port of Campeachy, which they approached in order to inquire where they were, and to beg some provisions, their own being gone. On entering the vessel, however, they found but two people in it; the third, jumping into the water, swam on shore, and brought three boats, filled with Spanish soldiers, which came on board before they could make off. "Make off!" said Falconer. "What, did you design to run away with the vessel!" "No," answered Warren, with some confusion; "we only intended to weigh anchor, and go farther in shore, that we might land in the morning, it being late at night."

The fact of the fellow being nonplussed now and then, Falconer did not at all like, but, upon consideration, he thought it might be for want of words to express himself better; so he took no more notice of it. In the evening, however, Middleton, one of their crew, came to him with a face of concern, and told him that he did not like these fellows' tale. "Why so?" said Falconer. "Because they herd together," answered he, "and are always whispering and speaking low to one another. If a foreboding heart may speak, I am sure we shall suffer something from them, that will be of danger to us."

Upon this, Falconer began to stagger in his opinion of their honesty, and, therefore, he and his friends resolved to be upon their guard. They took no notice of their conversation to their two other companions, but resolved to wait till night, having a better opportunity then, as they slept together in the cabin. When suppertime arrived, the five sailors excused themselves from joining the rest of the crew, by saying they had dined so lately that they were not hungry, which gave the others an opportunity to converse together sooner than they expected. They, therefore, opened the matter to their two companions, and they agreed immediately that they were in danger; so they resolved in the middle watch of the night to seize them in their sleep. It had been previously arranged that Falconer and his friends were to have the first watch, which was at eight o'clock; the others were to watch till twelve; and then, in the third watch, between one and two, Falconer and his companions had determined to seize upon the pirates as they slept. It having previously been found convenient that one of the pirates should form part of the captain's watch, they agreed, before commencing operations, to seize and bind him fast, and to threaten him with death if he offered to make the least noise.

As soon as the first watch was set, one of the party proceeded to prepare their arms. In about half an hour, or thereabouts, Warren, who had acted as spokesman, called to Hood, the man who had joined the captain's watch, to get him a little water; whereupon he went down immediately with some water to him. As soon as he was gone below, Falconer drew as near the hatchway as he could, to hear the conversation. Hood having been employed that day looking over the provisions, that he might know how long they would last, the others had not an opportunity to disclose their design to him. As soon as he was gone down, he could hear Warren say to him, "Hark ye, Frank, we had like to have been smoked to-day; and though we had contrived the story that I told you, yet I was a little surprised at their asking me, because then I did not expect it; but we intend to be even with them in a very little time; for, hark ye—" said he, and spoke so low that he could not be overheard. Upon which, the other said, "There is no difficulty in the matter; but we need not be in such haste, for you know, as we ply it to windward, a day or two can break no squares, and we can soon bear down to leeward to our comrades, that we left on shore; for I fancy," added he, "that they have some small suspicion of you now, which in time will sleep, and may be on their guard: therefore, it is better to wait a day or two."

"No; we'll do it to-night when they are asleep," replied Warren; whereupon there were many arguments for and against both plans. A little while afterwards, Hood came up again; and after walking up and down for some time, fixing his eyes often upon Falconer, he said very softly, "If you please, Mr. Falconer, I have a word or two to say to you, that much concerns you all." "What is it?" asked he. "Why," answered the other, "let us retire as far from the scuttle as we can, that we may not be heard by any below deck." So they went into the cabin, and opened the hatchway above, that Musgrave, who steered, might hear what was said. Hood then began as follows,—"My four companions below have a wicked design upon you; that is, to seize you, and set you adrift in the boat, and to run away with the vessel; but as I think it is an inhuman action, not only to any one, but to you in particular, who have been the means of their freedom, I have thought it best to give you warning." Finding from this conversation that he was sincere, Falconer told him that he was provided against it already, and informed him of their design to seize his companions in the third watch. "But," said he, "they intend to put their project in practice next watch; therefore, I think it will be necessary to counterplot them, and seize them at once." "As they have no arms," said Falconer, "and we have, we need not fear them."

They had several debates about the proper time to carry their scheme into effect, which, unfortunately, took up so much time, that Warren, distrusting Hood, it seems, got up, and stealing softly, came so close that he overheard everything that was said. As soon as he understood what was going forward, he went and informed his companions, upon which they resolved to attack the crew at once. In the midst of this consultation, Falconer and his companions were, therefore, surprised by the pirates, who seized them, which they did with such quickness that they were all confounded and overpowered before they had time to make the least resistance. They then handcuffed them and tied their legs together so as completely to prevent their moving.

In this state the mutineers left them till it was broad day, when they came and unbound their legs, and gave them leave to walk upon deck; whereupon Falconer began to expostulate with them, particularly with Warren, as he seemed to have a sort of command over the others. "And what," asked he, "do you intend to do with us, now you have secured us?" "Do with you? why, by-and-bye, we intend to put you into the boat, and turn you adrift; but, for that Hood, we'll murder him without mercy! The scoundrel! to betray us! But as you have not so much injured us, we'll put you immediately into the boat, with a week's provisions, and a small sail, and you shall seek your fortune, as I suppose you would have done by us." "No," answered Falconer, "we only designed to confine you till we came to Jamaica, and there to have given you your liberty to go where you thought fit. Put us ashore on any land that belongs to the English, and we will think you have not done us an injury." "No," said he, "we must go to meet our captain and fifty men, upon the mainland of Yucatan, where our vessel was stranded. Our first design," continued he, "when we were taken in our boat, was to get us a vessel to go buccaneering, which we had done at Campeachy, if it had not been for the Indian who swam on shore, unknown to us, and brought help too soon."

Warren, therefore, ordered him to be tied to the mast of the vessel, and loaded a
pistol to shoot him through the head.—P. 47.

When the conspirators had got everything ready, that is to say, a barrel of biscuit, another of water, about half a dozen pieces of beef, and as much pork, a small kettle, and a tinder-box, and were about to commit their unfortunate companions to the mercy of the sea, a sudden accident changed the face of affairs.

Before they departed, the mutineers determined to let them witness the death of Hood. Warren, therefore, ordered him to be tied to the mast of the vessel, and loaded a pistol to shoot him through the head, not knowing that it was charged before. They all entreated for the poor fellow, and he himself fell upon his knees, and begged them to spare him; but Warren swore bitterly that nothing should save him: with these words he cocked his pistol and levelled it at Hood, but in firing, it split into several pieces, and one struck Warren into the skull so deep, that he fell upon deck. One of the bullets grazed the side of Falconer's temple, and did but just break the skin: Hood, however, escaped unhurt; but he was so alarmed at the noise of the pistol, that he broke the cords which tied him. Finding himself unhurt, he ran to Falconer and his companions and unbound their arms, unperceived by the other two, who were busy about their unfortunate companion. Before the man that steered could come to their assistance, Hood had unbound Falconer, and stopped the interference of the steersman by giving him a blow with his fist, that knocked him down. In the meantime, the rest of the crew were released, and they speedily secured the other two pirates.

After they had bound them in turn, they went to see what assistance could be given to Warren, when they found that a piece of the barrel of the pistol had sunk into his skull, and that he was just expiring. "You have overpowered us," said he, "and I see the hand of Heaven is in it. I was born of good, honest parents, whose steps if I had followed, would have made my conscience easy at this time; but I forsook all religion, and now, too late, I find that to dally with Heaven is fooling one's self: but yet, in this one moment of my life which is left, I heartily repent of all my past crimes." With that he crossed himself and expired.

Falconer and his companions now made sail for Jamaica, where, after a variety of adventures, and being again taken by pirates, they at length arrived. From thence they sailed for England, which they reached in safety.

CHAPTER III. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE VRYHEID.

To-night, boys, I am going to give you an account of perhaps one of the most heart-rending shipwrecks with which I am acquainted; the more so that upwards of four hundred and fifty lives were lost, in all probability, entirely in consequence of the obstinacy of the captain.

Four hundred and fifty lives, Uncle Thomas! The very number is appalling.

It is indeed, John; but it is nevertheless true, that if the captain had taken the advice of those who warned him of the danger into which he was running, he and his crew might have escaped, as you shall hear. The shipwreck I refer to, is that of the Vryheid, which took place near Dover, in the beginning of the present century.

The Melville Castle, a British East Indiaman, after having performed the usual number of voyages, was sold by the East India Company to an agent of the merchants of Amsterdam, trading to the East Indies. She was carried to Amsterdam, where she underwent a tolerable repair in her upper works, and was new sheathed and coppered, but her knees and timbers remained in a very decayed state. Thus patched up, the Company tendered her to the Dutch government, which was then in want of a vessel to carry out troops and stores to Batavia. A surveyor was immediately ordered on board, who reported that the ship was in perfect repair, and wanted nothing but the necessary stores to equip her for the intended voyage. She was accordingly furnished with all the requisite stores, was painted throughout, and received the name of the Vryheid.

Having received on board the troops, consisting of three hundred and twenty men, the flower of the regiment, who were selected out of nearly one thousand, to form the second battalion of marines in the service of the Batavian republic, the ship got under way on the morning of the 21st November, 1802, and proceeded with a favorable breeze till early in the morning of the following day, when it began to blow a heavy gale from a contrary direction. The captain immediately ordered the top-gallant masts and yards to be struck, when the vessel appeared to ride easier than before. As the day opened, however, the wind blew with increased violence, and every exertion of the crew to render the ship manageable, proved ineffectual.

The most serious apprehensions soon began to be entertained for the safety of the vessel; and the state of the ladies on board was particularly distressing. Some embraced their helpless offspring and wept over them in speechless agony, while others in vain implored their husbands to procure the means of landing them in safety on their native shore, and to give up the voyage. The commander, Captain Scherman, was himself in a very trying situation. His wife was on board, with an infant only three months old; and her affliction was aggravated by being surrounded with so many females, fondly weeping over their little ones, and earnestly entreating assistance of the captain, who had the utmost difficulty to prevail on them to leave him, so that he might attend to the duties of his station.

The ship continued to drive before the wind till about three o'clock in the afternoon, when the storm increased to a perfect hurricane. Soon after that hour, the mainmast went by the board, with a tremendous crash, and, in its fall, swept overboard several of the crew, besides wounding four or five others. This disaster greatly augmented the fears of all on board. The captain himself, the admiral, and the other officers, now seemed to consider their lives in the most imminent danger; for though they were so near the Kentish shore, that they could discern objects on land, yet the waves, which then rolled mountains high, totally precluded the possibility of their receiving assistance.

In this emergency they hoisted a signal of distress, and after very great exertion, they managed to bring the ship to anchor at the entrance of Hythe Bay; but as it was now quite dark, they could obtain no assistance from the shore, though the wind was not quite so tempestuous. By the captain's orders the crew were plentifully regaled, and a beam of hope illumined every countenance; but, alas! it was but of momentary duration. The ship was found to have sprung a leak: all hands were ordered to the pumps; and while they were thus employed, the storm again came on with redoubled violence.

Universal consternation now prevailed, and the piercing shrieks of the women and children, at each successive blast of wind, were sufficient to unman the stoutest heart. Every relief that circumstances would admit was afforded by the ship's company and the troops, to the unfortunate ladies, many of whom were, by this time, clinging round their husbands and fainting in their arms.

They remained in this dismal situation for several hours, during which the greatest order and sobriety reigned on board, till about six o'clock on the succeeding morning, when the vessel parted from her best bower-anchor, and drifted towards Dymchurch Wall, about three miles to the westward of Hythe. They continued to fire guns of distress, and kept the signal flying during the whole of the morning. At day-break, a pilot-boat put off from Dover, and coming near, recommended the captain to put back to Deal or Hythe, and to remain till the weather became more moderate. "If you proceed," said the boatman, "all hands will be lost; you are evidently unacquainted with the coast, and if the gale should continue, no power on earth can save you." The captain, however, conceiving the danger to be less imminent than was represented, neglected this advice, hoping that, as the day opened, the wind would abate, when he should be enabled to put into some bay or port, without being obliged to comply with the demands of the Dover pilots, or pay the Downs fees for coming to anchor there.

The pilot-boat had scarcely left the ship, when the commodore at Deal despatched two boats to endeavor to board the ship, when the unaccountable and fatal obstinacy of the captain was again strikingly displayed; the crew were ordered to let the vessel drive before the wind, and to pay no attention to the recommendations of the commodore. The boats then fired several shots as a further signal to bring to, but these were equally disregarded. A few minutes afterwards, one of the boats passed close under the stern, and as the ship had lost her mainmast, desired she would immediately put about and stand for the first port. But to this, like the former solicitations, they gave no reply, and the gale increasing, they soon lost sight of both the boats. The ill-fated captain was now in a state of the greatest agitation, and bitterly repented his refusal to take a pilot on board, but it was now too late; the roar of the sea was terrific, and such a tremendous swell, that the chance of any relief being afforded from the shore was completely prevented.

The wind now blew a perfect hurricane from the south and south-west; the signal-guns they continued to fire incessantly, and the captain twice attempted to put the ship about, but all his exertions proved fruitless. She was now near Dymchurch Wall, where the coast, for the space of above two miles, is protected from the encroachment of the sea by overlaths and immense piles, and is further secured by large wooden jetties stretching far into the sea. On the first of these jetties the unfortunate vessel struck.

In this desperate situation, with the wind becoming more and more boisterous, the captain ordered the mizenmast to be cut away, and all the water in the hold to be started, by staving the casks; while a part of the crew, under the direction of the officers, were incessantly employed at the pumps. They also threw nearly the whole of the ballast overboard; but in spite of all their exertions, the danger seemed every moment to increase. So maddening was the reflection of what might have been their situation had a pilot not been refused, that the officers could not refrain from reproaching the captain with having slighted the advice of the English in the boats: he appeared to be deeply sensible of his error, but it was now too late.

The admiral recommended the sheet anchor to be cut away, which was accordingly done, but, notwithstanding this precaution, the unfortunate ship continued to beat upon the piles, and the sea to break over her with such violence, that the men were no longer able to remain in the hold. The pumps had now become so completely choked with sand and mud, that they were rendered totally useless, and a speedy destruction of the vessel and all on board appeared to be inevitable. The foremast soon afterwards went over the ship's side, carrying along with it about twelve of the crew, who were soon swallowed up by the waves. The ladies now began to prepare for the worst, and several of them, for greater security, were handed to the bowsprit, attended by their husbands. The others chose to wait their fate on the quarter-deck, where stood the miserable Captain Scherman, in silent despair at the unavailing cries for assistance of those around him; while his unfortunate wife, in all the bitterness of maternal anguish, was clinging to his feet.

About eight o'clock, the rudder was discovered to be unshipped, while the tiller was tearing up the gun-deck, and the water rushing in with fearful rapidity at the port-holes. At this moment most of the passengers and crew joined in solemn prayer to the Almighty; and while engaged in this act of devotion, the sea, foaming dreadfully, made a breach completely over them, so that they were obliged to exert every effort to prevent their being swept out of the ship. From the uncommon fury and roaring of the waves, the signal-guns, which they continued to fire from time to time, could scarcely be heard even on board; and no hope remained of their obtaining assistance from the shore. As a last expedient, the captain gave orders to cut away the anchors from the bows, when a violent swell immediately parted them, and the ship drifted with irresistible force farther on the piles.

The morning was unusually dark, and to aggravate the horrors of the terrific scene, the ship was not more than four or five cables' lengths from the shore; so that the crew could see that there were several people on the Wall, but who were unable to afford them any assistance. It was now half past eight, when a tremendous sea dashed with such force against the ill-fated vessel, that, after rocking like a cradle for two or three seconds, her timbers split, and she immediately broke in pieces. About one hundred and seventy persons were instantly overwhelmed by the furious element, and not one of them ever reached the land. The wreck, thus torn asunder, still presented nearly three hundred miserable objects clinging to the various parts that remained above water; while the tremendous noise of the foaming billows was drowned by the piercing shrieks and cries of the hapless women and children.

At the earnest request of the admiral, the jolly-boat, which was hanging over the stern, was now launched; and he, together with the colonel and eight females, were helped into it. They had not, however, proceeded far when a dreadful sea broke over them, and the boat instantly disappeared. In a few moments the colonel was observed endeavoring to support his wife above water, when a wave overwhelmed them, and they also sank to rise no more.

As the ship was now settling rapidly, each determined to risk some experiment to reach the shore. The captain proposed to his wife that they should make themselves fast to a large hen-coop, and commit their lives to the mercy of the waves. A few of the crew having cut away the coop, they with great difficulty made fast the captain and Mrs. Scherman, and after an affectionate parting, lowered them down over the stern. They had nearly reached the Wall, followed by the anxious looks of those who had remained on board the wreck, when a large piece that had been detached from it, was violently dashed against them, and they were never seen to rise again.

Painful as this spectacle must necessarily have been to the remaining survivers, their attention was completely absorbed in contriving means for their own preservation. A lieutenant, his wife, and two female domestics of the unfortunate admiral, still remained on the wreck, and the men agreed to make one more effort to save them. Seizing one of the hatches which had been torn asunder, they fastened it to a piece of the quarter-galley, and lashed the females to the planks, while the lieutenant, who was a good swimmer, stripped himself, and having taken a rope round his waist, the raft was lowered into the water. They had scarcely been a few seconds upon the water, when a violent gust of wind overset the raft, and every soul on it was hurried into eternity. Thus perished all the officers and females who had remained on the stern of the wreck.

About this time, the bowsprit was torn asunder from the other parts of the wreck. I have already told you that many of the females and officers had taken refuge upon it, and the number of persons about the rigging and various parts of the bows was now above a hundred, who were driven towards the Wall by the violence of the surf. Those who were upon the stern watched the progress of their companions with the utmost solicitude, and just as they supposed them to be beyond the reach of further danger, a tremendous sea broke over them, and whelmed them all in one general destruction.

The surface of the ocean was instantly covered with their bodies, and many of the unhappy creatures had almost reached the shore; but wave upon wave succeeded each other with fearful rapidity, and finally triumphed over all their exertions. Among the most distressing instances of individual suffering, was that of a captain of the marines, who was swimming with one hand, and with the other endeavoring to support his wife by the hair of her head; till, overcome by cold and fatigue, he turned round, clasped her in his arms, and both sank amid the waves.

The wreck, meanwhile, was gradually disappearing, and many of the seamen and marines, successively seizing on various timbers, precipitated themselves into the danger they were so anxious to avoid; but it may naturally be supposed, that after so many dreadful examples, those who still remained on the wreck should not be willing to attempt similar experiments. Of these there were now not more than forty-five on both parts of the wreck, which frequently became so entangled, that the men were near enough to hold a conversation with each other. Their fate, however, was now rapidly approaching to a crisis; from all parts, the planks were being torn away, and each succeeding wave was fatal to two or three of the wretched survivers. At length, two of the seamen determined to lash themselves to a large hog-trough, and endeavor to reach the land: they were handed over the larboard side, and after a miraculous escape from coming in contact with a fragment of the drifting wreck, they fortunately succeeded in reaching the shore in safety, being the first out of all the adventurers who had quitted the ship that were successful.

Their success greatly contributed to animate the exertions of those whom they had left behind, and who instantly fell to work to construct a raft, which, in a few minutes, was sufficiently compact for them to make the attempt. To this frail structure did the survivers commit their lives; and they had scarcely got clear of the wreck, when a heavy sea struck it with such violence, that it was dashed into a thousand pieces. The situation of those on the raft was now peculiarly awful, from the numerous fragments of the wreck, which were floating about in every direction, and by the violence of their motions threatening instant destruction. They continued, however, to drift nearer the Wall, when they were run foul of by a piece of the wreck, which swept off eighteen out of the thirty-three who were upon the raft, and wounded most of the others in a greater or less degree; at the same time they were driven forward with such velocity, that it was impossible to afford any relief to those who were struck off. About ten minutes after this fatal accident the survivers succeeded in reaching the long-wished-for shore, half dead with fatigue and the severe bruises which they had received.

Thus, of four hundred and seventy-two persons, who, but a few days before had left the city of Amsterdam, and who were but a few hours before on board the Vryheid, in full health and confidence of security, not more than eighteen escaped. This wretched remnant of the crew of that ill-fated vessel received from the inhabitants of the adjacent coast, such generous attention, as not only contributed to their recovery, but amply relieved all their necessities. The bodies of the unfortunate sufferers, which were scattered along the coast for many miles, were likewise collected, and decently interred. The bodies of Captain Scherman and his wife, and many of the officers and their ladies, were committed to the grave with every mark of respect.

Oh dreadful, Uncle Thomas! Poor, poor Captain Scherman; what shocking reflections must have been his when he found what fearful effects were resulting from his obstinacy!

They must have been shocking indeed, Frank. Let us gather wisdom from his experience, dreadful as it was, and learn from it that an obstinate and self-willed adherence to our own opinions, in opposition to those whose experience leads them to take a different view from us, is not only culpable, but highly dangerous—how dangerous, in this instance, may perhaps be gathered from the fact, that a small merchant vessel, which left the Texel on the same day as the Vryheid, took a pilot on board off Margate, and was brought safe into port, without losing a single hand during the storm.

Good night, boys; to-morrow I have a long and interesting tale to tell you about the Mutiny of the Bounty.

Good night, Uncle Thomas!

CHAPTER IV. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE MUTINY OF THE BOUNTY.

Good evening, Uncle Thomas! we are come to hear about the Mutiny of the Bounty.

Very well, boys, it is a long story, so I shall begin at once.

In the year 1787, it having been represented to the British Government, that the introduction of the Bread-fruit tree into the West India islands would be of great benefit to the inhabitants, a vessel was fitted up, in the most commodious manner, for the reception of the plants, and placed under the command of Lieutenant Bligh, who had previously sailed with Captain Cook on his voyage round the world. Her crew consisted of thirty-four persons, besides two intelligent botanists, who were added to the expedition for the purpose of managing the plants during the voyage, as well as undertaking their transplantation on board the vessel, and on their arrival at the place of destination.

On the 23d December, the Bounty sailed from Spithead, and on the 26th encountered a severe storm from the eastward, which continued for three days, during which the ship suffered considerably. They therefore found it necessary to touch at Teneriffe, in order to refit. Having put everything to rights, they again sailed, on the 10th January, 1788.

For nearly a month they struggled hard against the tempestuous weather which they encountered on their attempts to reach the Society Islands, where the plants were to be procured, by the route of Cape Horn, but at length, finding all their efforts ineffectual, they bore away for the Cape of Good Hope, where they once more found it necessary to replenish their stock of provisions and water.

At length, on the 26th of October, they came to anchor in Matavai Bay, in the island of Otaheite. The ship was soon crowded by natives, and two messengers arrived from Otoo, the chief of Matavai, each bringing a small pig and a young plantain-tree, as a token of friendship. Captain Bligh now went on shore, accompanied by a chief named Poeenoo, and was everywhere received in the most friendly manner, the women clothing him in the Otaheitan fashion, and afterwards accompanying him to the boat. In a few days the most friendly relations were established with the natives, and presents of small articles were bestowed on the chief, who was told that the king of England had sent him these on account of the kindness of his people to Captain Cook, as well as from a desire to serve him and his countrymen. At the same time he was asked if there was nothing he would like to send to the king in return. "Yes," said he, "I will send him anything I have," and immediately began enumerating such articles as the island afforded, and among others mentioned the bread-fruit. He was immediately told that this was what would please the king very much, and a number of young trees were promised to be sent on board.

For upwards of five months the Bounty remained at Matavai, when, having at length obtained upwards of one thousand plants, she set sail on the 4th of April, after bidding a most affectionate farewell to these kind and simple-hearted islanders.

On the 23d, they reached the island of Annamooka, where they remained till the 26th, carrying on a brisk trade with the natives in yams, plantains, hogs, fruits, &c. From thence the ship stood northward all night, and at noon on the following day they were between the islands of Tofoa and Kotoo.

So far the voyage had been one of uninterrupted prosperity. They had hitherto succeeded in the object of their mission, and to all appearance it was likely to result in the most complete success. These fair prospects were, however, destined to be suddenly overclouded by one of the most systematic, as well as cautious and deliberate mutinies, upon record.

[Illustration: They pulled Captain Bligh out of bed, forced him upon deck, and placed him under a guard.—P. 81.]

About sunrise of the morning of the 28th April, Captain Bligh was awoke by Fletcher Christian, one of the mates, and three others, who tied his hands behind his back, and threatened him with instant death if he spoke or made the least resistance. They then pulled him out of bed, forced him on deck in his shirt, and placed him under a guard with Christian, who seemed to be the ringleader at their head. To all his entreaties and enquiries as to the reason for this violence, their only answer was a command to hold his tongue, with threats of having his brains blown out if he did not instantly comply.

The mutineers then ordered the boatswain to hoist the launch out, and several of the officers were ordered into it. As Captain Bligh now saw the fate that awaited him and the obnoxious members of his crew, he once more made an effort to reason with those around him, but was immediately checked, and again threatened with instant death. When they had succeeded in getting rid of such of the crew as they disliked, the mutineers forced the captain over the ship's side into the boat, and after subjecting their victims to much ridicule, and making sport of their situation, they at length cast them adrift on the open sea! As the vessel sailed away, they could hear the mutineers shouting "Huzza for Otaheite!" It was therefore supposed that the enticements of a delightful climate and the allurements of a continuance of the life of unrestrained indulgence which they had recently led on that island, had tempted them to the commission of the crime of which they had been guilty.

The launch (a boat twenty-three feet in length) contained nineteen persons; and the quantity of provisions which they had been permitted to secure, amounted to only one hundred and fifty pounds weight of bread, about thirty pounds of pork, six quarts of rum, six bottles of wine, and twenty-eight gallons of water.

Thus abandoned, Captain Bligh and his companions directed their course to Tofoa, in the hope of there obtaining a supply of bread-fruit and water. They had at first great difficulty in finding any of the natives; at length, however, having fallen in with two of them, several others soon collected, from whom they obtained a small supply of such articles as they wanted. By degrees the number of natives increased, and they began to show symptoms of some hostile design; but they were, for the time, overawed by the undaunted behavior of Captain Bligh. As the evening advanced, however, they continued to congregate, all carrying stones in their hands, which they continued knocking together in token of attack, and on the party proceeding to embark with the provisions which they had accumulated, the attack commenced. They had all got in safety to the boat, and one of the men jumped on shore in order to untie the rope by which it was fastened, when he was instantly knocked down and murdered in the most inhuman manner. Finding that there was no hope of lending assistance to their unfortunate companion, they hastily pushed off. Some of the natives got into their canoes, and gave chase, throwing the stones with which they were armed, with such power and effect as nearly to disable every person on board. Fortunately, it occurred to Captain Bligh to drop some clothes overboard, when the canoes stopping to pick them up, allowed them to get a little ahead of their pursuers, and it being now almost dark, they gave up the chase.

Seeing that there was now no hope of relief until they reached Timour, a distance of full twelve hundred leagues, where there was a Dutch settlement, Captain Bligh and his companions bent their course across an ocean whose navigation was then little known, exposed as well to the dangers of the deep as to famine, their little store only allowing them to serve out one ounce of bread and a quarter of a pint of water per day.

Captain Bligh has left a very interesting journal of their sufferings during this long and hazardous voyage, from which I will read you a few of the daily entries. It was about eight o'clock at night on the 2nd of May, that they bore away from Tofoa, and having divided the people into watches, and put the boat somewhat in order, they returned thanks to God for their miraculous preservation.

On the 3d, it blew a violent storm, and the sea ran so high, that they were obliged to keep constantly bailing, and were in great apprehension that the bread, which was in bags, would be spoiled; to prevent this they threw overboard all superfluous clothes, with some spare sails and ropes, in order to lighten the boat, and emptying the carpenter's chest, stowed the tools at the bottom of the boat, and put the bread into the chest.

On the morning of the 5th, the gale had abated, and the boat was running among some islands; but after their reception at Tofoa, they did not venture to land. Upon examining the state of their bread, they found that a great part of it was damaged; but even this was carefully preserved for use. The next day they still continued to see islands at a distance; and for the first time, to their great joy, they hooked a fish, but were miserably disappointed by losing it, as they were trying to get it into the boat. They were dreadfully cramped from the want of room, which they endeavored to remedy by putting themselves at watch and watch; one half sitting up, while the others lay down in the bottom of the boat, with nothing to cover them, and so constantly wet, that after a few hours' sleep, they were scarcely able to move.

On the 7th, they passed close to some rocky isles, from which they were pursued by two large sailing canoes, but in the afternoon they gave over the chase. Soon after, it began to rain very heavily, when every person on board did his utmost to catch some water, by which they increased their stock to thirty-four gallons, besides quenching their thirst for the first time since they had been in the boat. The following day they had an allowance of an ounce and a half of pork, a tea-spoonful of rum, half a pint of cocoa-nut milk, and an ounce of bread. The afternoon was employed in cleaning out the boat, and getting everything dry and in order. Hitherto Captain Bligh had issued the allowance by guess, but he now made a pair of scales with two cocoa-nut shells, and finding some pistol balls in the boat, which weighed twenty-five to the pound, he adopted one of these as the weight of bread to be served to each person at one time.

On the 9th they experienced a violent storm of thunder and lightning. They collected about twenty gallons of water; but were so miserably wet and cold, that a tea-spoonful of rum was served to each. The weather continued extremely bad, and the wind so increased, that hardly one of them got any sleep that night. The morning of the 10th brought no relief except its light. The sea broke over the boat so much, that two men were kept constantly bailing; and it was necessary to keep the boat before the wind to prevent its filling. The allowance was now one bullet-weight of bread and a quarter of a pint of water, at eight in the morning, at noon, and at sunset, with the addition of half an ounce of pork for dinner.

The weather had not at all improved on the following day, and their situation was becoming extremely dangerous from the constant running of the sea over the stern, which kept them baling with all their strength; but at noon they were much enlivened by the appearance of the sun, which gave them great pleasure.

On the 12th it rained towards the evening, and they again experienced a dreadful night. When the day came, they were in no way refreshed by the little sleep they had, as they were constantly drenched by the sea and rain; and though the men were shivering with wet and cold, the captain was under the disagreeable necessity of informing them, that he could no longer afford them the scanty pittance of a tea-spoonful of rum.

The stormy weather and heavy seas continued unabated on the 13th and 14th, and on these days they saw distant land and passed several islands, the sight of which increased, rather than alleviated the misery of their situation; as an attempt to procure relief was considered to be attended with so much danger, that it was thought advisable to remain as they were, rather than encounter the risk.

The 15th, it was still rainy, both day and night; it was so dark that not a star could be seen by which steerage could be directed, and the sea was continually breaking over the boat: this continued on the 16th, when they passed a truly horrible night, with storms of thunder, lightning, and rain. The dawn of the 17th brought no relief; and the suffering from wet and cold had been so severe, that they were obliged to break their rule, and serve a tea-spoonful of rum to each. The night was again dark and dismal, and nothing but the winds and waves to direct their steering.

On the 18th the rain abated, when they stripped and wrung their clothes, which greatly refreshed them; but every one of them complained of violent pains in their bones. At night the rain re-commenced, with thunder and lightning, which continued without intermission till the 21st, when they were so drenched with rain and salt water during the whole of the afternoon, that they could scarcely see; and on the following day their situation was extremely calamitous. They were obliged to run right before the storm and keep a strict watch, as the slightest error in the helm would have instantly caused their destruction. During the night the misery they endured was excessive, so much so that they expected another such a night would put an end to the sufferings of several of them; but on the 24th the wind moderated towards the evening, and the night was fair. In the morning they experienced relief, from the warmth of the sun, for the first time during the last fifteen days.

As the sea now began to run fair, Captain Bligh took the opportunity to examine their stock of bread, and found there was sufficient, according to their present rate of allowance, to last twenty-nine days, which was about the time they expected to be able to reach Timor: but as this was uncertain, and it was possible they might be obliged to go to Java, they determined to reduce their present scanty rate, so as to make the stock hold out six weeks. This was effected by continuing the same quantity for breakfast and dinner as usual, and discontinuing the supper allowance.

At noon of the 25th, some noddies came so near to the boat, that they caught one of them, about the size of a small pigeon. This was divided, with its entrails, into eighteen portions, and distributed by the following method:—one man stood with his back to the object, while another, pointing separately to each portion, asked aloud, "Who shall have this?" to which the first answered by naming somebody, until the whole number had been served. By this impartial method, each man stood the same chance of obtaining an equal share. They had also an allowance of bread and water. In the evening several boobies came near them, and they were fortunate enough to catch one about as large as a duck. This they killed for supper, and, giving the blood to three of the people who were most distressed, the body, with the entrails, feet, and beak, were divided into eighteen shares, and distributed as before; and having with it an allowance of bread, the whole made an excellent supper.

On the 28th, at one o'clock in the morning, the man at the helm heard the sound of breakers. It was the barrier reef which runs along the eastern coast of New Holland, through which it now became their anxious object to discover a passage. The sea broke furiously over the reef, but within was so smooth and calm, that they already anticipated the heartfelt satisfaction they should experience, as soon as they should pass the barrier. At length they discovered a break in the reef, about a quarter of a mile in width, through which they passed rapidly with a strong stream running to the westward, and came almost immediately into smooth water.

They offered up their thanks to the Almighty for his merciful protection of them, and then, with more contentment than they had yet been able to feel, took their miserable allowance of a bullet-weight of bread and a quarter of a pint of water for dinner. They now began to see the coast very distinctly, and in the evening they landed on the sandy point of an island, where they soon discovered that there were oysters: they also found plenty of fresh water. By the help of a small magnifying glass, a fire was made; and they discovered among the things that had been thrown into the boat a tinder-box and a piece of brimstone, so that in future they had the ready means of making a fire. One of the men had been provident enough to bring with him from the ship a copper pot, in which they made a stew of oysters, bread and pork, and each person received a full pint.

They now enjoyed a few luxurious meals of oysters and palm-tops stewed, without consuming any of their bread. They also collected a quantity of oysters, which they put on board the boat, and filled their vessels with fresh water, to the amount of nearly sixty gallons. Upon examining the bread, they found about thirty-eight days' allowance remaining.

Being now ready for sea, every person was ordered to attend prayers; and just as they were on the point of embarking, about twenty naked savages made their appearance, and beckoned them to come near; but as they were armed with spears and lances, it was thought advisable to decline the invitation, and proceed on their voyage.

At length, after a variety of adventures, and the endurance of privations almost unexampled, on the 11th of June Captain Bligh announced the pleasing intelligence to his companions, that an observation of longitude appeared to indicate that they had passed the meridian of the eastern part of Timor. This joyful news filled every heart with exultation, and all eyes were intently directed to the quarter in which land was expected to appear. Evening fell, however, without their being able to discover any trace of it; but by day-break on the following morning, a cultivated coast, finely diversified with hill and dale, appeared, stretching in a wide extent before them.—This was Timor!

It is almost impossible to describe the wild tumult of joy, the intense and inexpressible delight, which filled their hearts at the sight of land! Their thoughts rapidly reverted to the varied events of their fearful passage, till it appeared scarcely credible, even to themselves, that in an open boat, so poorly provided, and under circumstances every way so calamitous, they should have been able to reach the coast of Timor in forty-one days after leaving Tofoa, having in that time run, by their log, a distance of three thousand six hundred and eighteen nautical miles: and this, notwithstanding their extreme distress, without the loss of a single individual.

The governor of the island received them with the greatest hospitality. After remaining a short time at Timor, they proceeded to Batavia. Here Captain Bligh was seized with a fever; and as his life was in danger from the heat of the climate, he was obliged to leave the island without loss of time. He accordingly sailed in a packet, and arrived in England in March, 1790. The crew were accommodated with passages home as opportunity offered, but though apparently all in good health when Captain Bligh left, they did not all live to quit Batavia. The hardships which they had undergone had so undermined the constitutions of several, as rendered them unable to support the rigor of such an unhealthy climate; but of the nineteen who were forced into the launch by the mutineers, it pleased God that twelve should surmount the difficulties and dangers of this unparalleled voyage, and live to visit their native land.

But, Uncle Thomas, what became of the mutineers?

Another vessel, boys, was fitted out by the British Government to proceed in search of them. Several of them were taken and brought to England, where, after being tried, three of them were executed. Some of the others who had been forced to join the mutiny were pardoned. From the statements of these men, it appeared that quarrels soon sprang up among them after Captain Bligh's departure, and several of them suffered violent deaths—among the rest, Christian, who you will recollect was the most active among them, was murdered by one of the natives. The death of Christian was the signal for a general rising among the natives, who, by this time, had become tired of the English; some of them were killed, and others, among whom was a man named John Adams, escaped, wounded, to the woods. They were joined by several females, to whom they had formed attachments, with whom they escaped and established themselves on what has since been called Pitcairn's Island. For twenty years nothing was heard of them, till two British vessels, happening to touch at the island, the crews were astonished to find it inhabited, and more so when they were accosted in their native tongue by the inhabitants.

Matters were soon explained. They found Adams, a fine-looking old man, of nearly sixty years of age. He was revered as the father of the colony, and ruled with a paternal sway over his little kingdom. He died in 1829.

But I must stop. I fear I have already detained you too long to-night, boys,—So good night!

Good night, Uncle Thomas.

CHAPTER V. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE KENT EAST INDIAMAN.

Good evening, Uncle Thomas! We were very much interested with the account you gave us of the Mutiny of the Bounty. As we came along we were thinking what a shocking thing it would be for a ship to take fire at sea. Do such misfortunes ever take place, Uncle Thomas?

Yes, boys, they do, though much less frequently than one would expect. The sailors are very careful, and are prohibited from using lights after certain hours. I can tell you about the loss of a large East Indiaman, which caught fire in the Bay of Biscay, and was completely destroyed.

Oh! do let us hear it, Uncle Thomas!

On the 19th February, 1825, the Kent, a fine new vessel, commanded by Captain Henry Cobb, bound for Bengal and China, left the Downs. She had on board a crew of one hundred and forty-eight men, including officers, with twenty military officers, three hundred and forty-four soldiers, forty-three women, and sixty-six children, belonging to the 31st regiment, and twenty private passengers; making in all six hundred and forty-one persons.

The Kent proceeded prosperously on her voyage until the night of the 28th February, when her progress was arrested by a violent gale from the west, which gradually increased during the following morning. So violent was the storm, that at every lurch the main chains of the vessel were considerably under water, and the various articles of furniture were dashed about the cabin with such noise and violence, as to excite the liveliest apprehensions of danger.

The utmost activity of the officers and crew of the Kent was called into exercise, and everything was done in order to secure the safety of the vessel. In the course of his duty, one of the officers went into the hold, accompanied by a couple of sailors, in order to see that all was fast. They carried with them a patent lantern, and seeing that the lamp burned dimly, the officer took the precaution to hand it up to the deck to be trimmed. Having discovered that one of the spirit casks had broken loose from its fastenings, he sent the sailors for some billets of wood to secure it; but the ship in their absence having made a heavy lurch, the officer unfortunately dropped the lamp, and letting go his hold of the cask, in his eagerness to recover the lantern, it suddenly stove, and the spirits communicating with the flame, the whole place was instantly in a blaze.

So long as the flames appeared to be confined to the spot where the fire originated, which was surrounded on all sides by water casks, hopes were entertained that it might be subdued; but no sooner was the light blue vapor, that at first arose, succeeded by volumes of thick dingy smoke, which, speedily ascending through all the four hatchways, rolled over every part of the ship, than almost all hope of saving the vessel was abandoned. "The flames have reached the cable tier!" was exclaimed by some individuals; and the strong pitchy smell that pervaded the deck, soon confirmed the truth of the exclamation.

In these awful circumstances, Captain Cobb, with an ability and decision of character that seemed to increase with the imminence of the danger, resorted to the fearful experiment of ordering the lower decks to be scuttled, and the lower port-holes of the vessel to be opened, for the free admission of the waves.

These orders were speedily executed, but not before several of the unhappy passengers had perished from suffocation. So dense and oppressive was the smoke, that it was with the greatest difficulty any person could remain long enough below deck to execute the captain's wishes, but no sooner were they accomplished, than the sea rushed in with extraordinary force, carrying before it the largest chests, bulk-heads, and other weighty articles. The immense quantity of water thus introduced, had the effect of checking the fury of the flames for a time, but a new source of danger suddenly opened upon them—the ship becoming water-logged, and seemed in danger of going down.

The scene of horror that now presented itself almost baffles description. The upper deck was covered with between 600 and 700 human beings, many of whom, from previous sea-sickness, were forced, on the first alarm, to flee from below, in a state of absolute nakedness, and were now running about in quest of husbands, children or parents. While some were standing in silent resignation, or in stupid insensibility, to their impending fate, others were yielding themselves up to frantic despair. Some on their knees were earnestly imploring the mercy of Him whose arm, they exclaimed, was at length outstretched to smite them; others were to be seen hastily crossing themselves, and performing various external acts required by their particular persuasion; while a number of the older and more stouthearted soldiers and sailors took their seats directly over the powder magazine,—hoping, as they stated, that by means of the explosion which they every instant expected, a speedier termination might be put to their sufferings.

All hope had departed, and the employment of the different individuals indicated an utter despair of rescue. One was to be seen thoughtfully removing a lock of hair from his writing-desk to his bosom, and another officer, procuring paper, addressed a short communication to his father, which he afterwards carefully enclosed in a bottle, in the hope that it might eventually reach its destination, and relieve him from the long years of fruitless anxiety and suspense, which the melancholy fate which hung over him might awaken. At this appalling instant, when all hope of being saved was taken away, it occurred to Mr. Thompson, the fourth mate, to send a man to the fore-top, rather with the ardent wish that some friendly sail might be descried on the face of the waters, than with any expectation that it would be realized. For a moment the sailor who ascended threw his eyes around the horizon—a moment of unutterable suspense—and then, waving his hat, exclaimed, "A sail, on the lee bow!" The joyful announcement was received with heartfelt thanksgivings, and answered by three loud cheers from those on deck; the signals of distress were instantly hoisted, minute-guns fired, and endeavors made, under three topsails and foresail, to bear down upon the stranger, which proved to be the Cambria, a small brig of two hundred tons burthen, commanded by Captain Cook, and bound to Vera Cruz, having on board twenty or thirty Cornish miners, and some agents of the Anglo-Mexican company.

For ten or fifteen agonizing minutes, the crew of the Kent were in doubt whether the brig perceived their signals, or, perceiving them, was either disposed or able to give them any assistance. From the violence of the gale, as they afterwards learned, the report of the guns was not heard, but the ascending volumes of smoke from the ship sufficiently announced the dreadful nature of their distress; and after a short period of the greatest suspense, they saw the brig hoist British colours, and crowd all sail to hasten to their relief.

While the vessel was approaching, arrangements were made for getting out the boats, so as to have all in readiness so soon as she came within a reasonable distance. Before hoisting out the boat, it was filled with the officers' ladies and the female passengers, and as many of the soldiers' wives as it could safely carry. They hurriedly wrapped themselves in whatever articles of clothing they could first lay their hands on; and, at about half past two o'clock, a most mournful procession advanced from the after-cabins to the starboard cuddy-port, from the outside of which the cutter was suspended. Not a sound was heard—not a syllable was uttered—even the infants ceased to cry, as though conscious of the unspoken anguish that was rending the hearts of their parting parents; nor did aught occur to break the solemn stillness of the scene, save in one or two instances, when the ladies plaintively entreated to be left behind with their husbands; but being assured that every moment's delay might occasion the sacrifice of life, they successively suffered themselves to be torn from the tender embrace; and, with a fortitude which never fails to characterize and adorn their sex on occasions of overwhelming trial, were placed, without a murmur, in the boat, which was immediately lowered into so tempestuous a sea, as to leave them only to hope against hope, that it should live in it for a single moment. Twice the cry was heard from those on the chains that the boat was swamping; but He who enabled the apostle Peter to walk on the face of the deep, was graciously attending to the silent, but earnest, aspirations of those on board, and had decreed its safety.

Although every precaution was taken to diminish the danger of the boat's descent—a man having been stationed at each end, with an axe, ready to cut the ropes, in case of any difficulty occurring in unhooking it from the tackle by which it was lowered—yet the extreme difficulty of the operation had nearly proved fatal to the whole of its precious cargo. After one or two unsuccessful attempts had been made to place the little frail bark fairly upon the surface of the water, the command was given to unhook: the stern tackle was immediately cleared, but the ropes at the bow having got foul, the sailors there found it impossible to obey the order. In vain was the axe applied to the entangled tackle. The moment was inconceivably critical, as the boat, necessarily following the motions of the ship, was gradually rising out of the water, and must in another instant have been hanging perpendicularly by the bow, and its helpless passengers precipitated into the sea, had not a wave providentially struck the stern and lifted it up, so as to enable the seamen to clear the tackle; and the boat, being dexterously disentangled from the ship, was soon seen battling with the billows in its progress to the brig—one instant like a speck upon their summit, and then disappearing for several seconds, as if engulfed in the horrid vale between them.

The Cambria having prudently lain at some distance from the Kent, lest she should be involved in her explosion, or exposed to the fire of the guns, which, being all shotted, afterwards went off as they were successively reached by the flames, the boat had a considerable distance to row. The interval of its leaving the Kent, and its arrival at the side of the Cambria, was a time of most intense interest; at length, however, it reached her in safety, and the inmates, one after another, arrived on board.

It being impossible for the boats, after the first trip, to come alongside the Kent, a plan was adopted for lowering the women and children by ropes from the stern, by tying them two-and-two together. But from the heaving of the ship, and the extreme difficulty of dropping them at the instant the boat was underneath, many of the poor creatures were unavoidably plunged repeatedly under water: all the women, from their superior strength, were happily able to endure this rough usage, but, unfortunately, several children fell victims.

Amid the conflicting feelings and dispositions manifested by the numerous actors in this melancholy drama, many affecting proofs were elicited of parental and filial affection, or of disinterested friendship, that seemed to shed a momentary halo around the gloomy scene.

Two or three soldiers, to relieve their wives of a part of their families, sprang into the water with their children, and perished in their endeavors to save them. One young lady, who had resolutely refused to leave her father, whose sense of duty kept him at his post, was very near falling a sacrifice to her filial devotion, not having been picked up by those in the boats until she had sunk five or six times. Another individual, who was reduced to the frightful alternative of losing his wife or his children, hastily decided in favor of his duty to the former: his wife accordingly was saved, and four fine children, alas! left to perish. One fine fellow, a soldier, who had neither wife nor child of his own, but who evinced the greatest solicitude for the safety of those of others, insisted on having three children lashed to him, with whom he plunged into the water; but not being able to reach the boat, he was drawn back again into the ship, yet not before two of the children had expired. One man fell down the hatchway into the flames. But the numerous instances of individual loss and suffering were not confined to the commencement of the perilous voyage between the two vessels: one man, who fell between the boat and the brig, had his head literally crushed; while some were lost in their attempts to ascend the sides of the Cambria.

As the day was drawing to a close, and the flames were now slowly, but perceptibly, extending, the gallant commanders felt increased anxiety for the safety of the remainder of the brave men under their charge.

To facilitate this object a rope was suspended from the extremity of the spanker-boom, which projects from sixteen to eighteen feet over the stern, and, in such a large ship as the Kent, on ordinary occasions rests about nineteen or twenty feet above the water. In order more readily to reach the boats, and to prevent the danger of their being stove by approaching too close to the vessel, the men were directed to proceed along the boom and slide down by the rope. But as from the great swell of the sea, it was impossible for the boats to retain their station for a moment, most of those who adopted this course, were either left for a time swinging in mid-air, or plunged into the sea, and perhaps violently flung against the boat as it once more approached to their rescue.

At length, when nearly every person was removed, and when those only remained whom fear had so overcome as to prevent their availing themselves of the means of escape, even at the urgent request of those in the boats, Captain Cobb quitted the ill-fated vessel, and shortly after the boat in which he was reached the Cambria, the flames, which had spread along the upper deck of the Kent, ascended with the rapidity of lightning to the masts and rigging, forming one general conflagration, and illuminating the heavens to an immense distance, until the masts, one by one successively, fell like stately steeples over the ship's side. At last, about half-past one in the morning, the fire communicated to the powder magazine, the long-threatened explosion took place, and the fragments of the magnificent Kent were instantly hurried, like so many rockets, high into the air.

The Cambria now made all sail to the nearest port, and, though the violence of the gale continued, she arrived at Falmouth shortly after midnight on the 3d of March, when her unfortunate crew were received with the utmost kindness by the inhabitants, and their wants instantly attended to.

Were those that remained on board the Kent all lost, Uncle Thomas?

No, not the whole of them, boys. Wonderful to relate, the flames and the explosion attracted the notice of the crew of another ship, named the Caroline, on her passage from Alexandria to Liverpool, who immediately set their sails and bore down upon the wreck. They were fortunately in time to save twelve persons whom they found floating about on a mast. The captain of the Caroline, with the greatest humanity, remained in the neighborhood all night, in the hope of assisting any who might have taken refuge on other parts of the wreck. In the morning they rescued two more of the unfortunate survivers, being all that they could discover, from the floating masses of wreck. But the sky beginning to assume a stormy aspect, the boat which had been sent out was forced to return to the ship, which once more proceeded on her voyage.

Was rum the cause of this sad disaster, Uncle Thomas?

Yes, my boys, rum did all the mischief.

Then we will have no rum on board of our ship, when we are men, will we, John? for it is of no use, father says.

CHAPTER VI. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE MEDUSA.

Good evening, boys. The tale which I am going to tell you this evening, so far exceeds in misery and crime all of those which I have already told you, that it is almost necessary for me, before I begin, to assure you that it really happened. I question indeed, if the wildest imagination could have contrived to conjure up such a complication of disasters.

It must be something very terrible indeed, Uncle Thomas!

It is, boys;—but you shall judge for yourselves. On the restoration of the general peace, in the year 1814, the French possessions on the west coast of Africa, which had been taken by the British forces, were agreed to be given up. An expedition, consisting of a frigate and three other vessels, having on board nearly four hundred persons, men of science, artisans, agriculturists, &c., was accordingly despatched, in June, 1816, to take possession of them. The naval part of the expedition was entrusted to an officer named Lachaumareys, who commanded the Medusa, of forty-four guns.

In consequence of the ignorance of the officers of the ship of the navigation of the coast, the Medusa unfortunately run aground on the bank of Arguin, on the coast of Africa. After in vain trying every means of getting her off, and finding that all hope of saving the vessel was useless, they took measures to secure the safety of the crew and passengers. Finding that the boats did not afford sufficient accommodation for the whole, a raft was hastily constructed; but in the tumult of abandoning the wreck, it happened that the raft, which was destined to carry the greatest number of persons, had on board the smallest quantity of provisions.

When all was ready, the boats pushed off, towing the raft, those on board assuring the passengers on the raft that they would conduct them in safety to land. They had not proceeded above a couple of leagues, however, when, one after another, the boats cast off the tow-lines, and left the raft to its fate, each striving to make off with all possible speed.

By this time it was discovered that the raft was completely overloaded, and the articles of which it was composed becoming saturated with water, it sunk below the surface, so as to immerse every person on board nearly up to the middle in water. Finding themselves thus abandoned, and threatened every instant with being swallowed up in the deep, the most horrible ideas took possession of their imaginations; they gave themselves up to despair. With some difficulty, the officers who were on board succeeded in restoring their men to a certain degree of tranquillity. Their own confidence had well nigh given way when they found that they were in the middle of the ocean, without chart or compass on the raft. It was discovered that one of the men had preserved a pocket-compass, but in their anxiety to secure this invaluable little instrument, it fell from the hands of the person who held it, and disappeared between the openings of the raft.

As night came on, the breeze freshened and the sea began to swell. By midnight the weather had become very stormy, the waves breaking over them in every direction. During the whole night the unhappy wretches struggled against death, holding firmly by the spars to prevent themselves from being swept away, tossed by the waves from one end to the other, sometimes precipitated into the sea, floating between life and death; "mourning over our misfortunes," says one of the survivers, "certain of perishing, yet contending for the remains of existence with that cruel element which threatened to swallow us up. Such was our situation till break of day—horrible situation! How shall we convey an idea of it which will not fall far short of the reality?"

In the morning the wind abated and the sea subsided a little, but the day-light displayed a scene scarcely less appalling than the storm of the night. Ten or twelve of the unhappy men had their limbs jammed between the spars of the raft, and exhausted by fatigue and hunger, and unable to extricate themselves, had perished in this situation. Several had been swept away altogether, so that when they came to count their number, it was found that twenty had disappeared.

The day turned out beautiful, and they flattered themselves with the hope that in the course of it some of the boats would come to their rescue. Evening approached, however, and none was to be seen. As the night advanced, the storm again rose; the waves broke over them, many were swept away, and the crowding to the centre of the raft became so oppressive, that several were crushed to death. Firmly persuaded that they were on the point of being swallowed up by the sea, the soldiers and sailors, abandoning themselves to despair, resolved to sooth their last moments by drinking to intoxication. They bored a hole in the head of a large cask, and continued to suck till the salt water, mixing with the wine, rendered it no longer palatable. Excited by the wine acting on empty stomachs and on bodies weakened by hunger and fatigue, they now became deaf to the voice of reason, and openly declared their intention to murder their officers and to cut the ropes which bound the raft together. One wretch, indeed, seizing an axe, actually began the dreadful work. The officers rushed forward, and their interference was a signal for a general revolt. The mutineers, for the most part, were fortunately badly armed, and the sabres and bayonets of the opposite party kept them at bay. One fellow was discovered secretly cutting the ropes which bound their frail raft together. He was instantly flung into the sea. Others cut the ropes which supported the mast, and it fell on one of the officers and broke his thigh. He was instantly seized by the mutineers and thrown overboard, but was saved by his friends. Finding that it was necessary to make a desperate effort to put an end to the mutiny, the officers once more rushed forward, and many of the mutineers fell. By-and-by, the effects of the wine which they had drank wore off, and they sank into calmness and servility, crying out for mercy, and begging forgiveness on their knees.

It was now midnight, and tranquillity appeared once more to be restored; but scarcely an hour had elapsed when the mutineers, as if once more seized with sudden frenzy, rushed on the officers, tearing them with their teeth. A new scene of slaughter again took place, and the raft was once more strewed with dead bodies.

When day dawned, it was found that in the night of horror which had just elapsed, no fewer than sixty-five of the mutineers had perished, as well as two of the other party. The scanty stock of provisions which they at first possessed, was now exhausted. A single cask of wine only remained. They began to experience the most violent cravings of hunger, and in the extremity of their distress were forced to devour the dead bodies of their unfortunate companions. Some, who, even in the extremity to which they were reduced, revolted from this horrible repast, tried to stay the pangs of hunger by gnawing their sword-belts, cartridge-boxes, &c; but from them they found little relief.

A third night of horror approached. Fortunately, the weather was now calm, and they were disturbed only by the piercing cries of those who were hourly falling victims to hunger and thirst. The morning's sun showed the survivers the lifeless bodies of ten or a dozen more of their unfortunate companions, who had died during the night. They were all committed to the deep except one, who was kept to satisfy the cravings of his unhappy comrades. A shoal of flying-fish, in passing the raft, left a great number entangled between the spars. This afforded them a momentary relief from the shocking repast to which they had of late been accustomed.

The fourth night was marked by another revolt. It was, however, soon quelled; two lives only being lost in the scuffle. Their number was now reduced to thirty; and it was calculated that the wine and fish which remained would be just enough to last four days; but in these four days they also calculated that ships might arrive from St. Louis to save them. Soon after this intimation was made, two soldiers were discovered behind the cask of wine, through which they had bored a hole for the purpose of drinking it. It having been determined that the punishment of death should be inflicted on any one who should be guilty of such a crime, they were immediately tossed into the sea.

At length the raft was discovered by a small brig, which was sent out in search of
her.—P. 137.

Their number was thus reduced to twenty-eight; and, as nearly one half of them were so worn out and emaciated, that it was in vain to expect their surviving till assistance could arrive, (but, as long as they did live, they consumed part of the scanty stock of provisions,) a council was held, and after deliberation, it was decided to throw overboard the weak and the sickly. This shocking resolution was immediately carried into effect.

At length the raft was discovered by a small brig, which had been sent out in search of it. Of the 150 who embarked, fifteen only were received on board the brig; and of these, six died shortly after their arrival at St. Louis.

Oh dreadful, Uncle Thomas! It is indeed the most awful tale you have yet told us. Did the parties in the boats reach land safely?

Yes, Harry, they all reached the shore in safety, though several of them afterwards fell victims to the combined effects of hunger, thirst, and the oppression of a burning sun. Shortly after their arrival, the governor, recollecting that the Medusa, at the time of her wreck, had on board a large sum of money, despatched a vessel to try to recover it. From various causes, the ship was twice put back; and when she reached the wreck, fifty-two days after it was abandoned, she found three miserable wretches still on board, and so reduced as to be just on the point of expiring!

Where did they come from, Uncle Thomas?

Why, John, they had never quitted the ship. You will recollect that, when the boats left it, such was the scene of confusion, that the fewest provisions were put on board the raft, where there were the most passengers. Well, these men, along with fourteen others, had either concealed themselves, or refused to leave the ship. They managed to secure a quantity of provisions; and so long as these lasted, there appearing no danger of the wreck going to pieces, they remained quietly awaiting the arrival of assistance; but finding their provisions begin to run short, twelve of the most determined constructed a raft; but, setting off without either sail or oars, they were all drowned. Another, who had refused to embark with them on the raft, resolved, a day or two after, to try to reach the shore, and, lowering a hen-coop from the deck, placed himself on it; but, before he had sailed half a cable's length, he sank, to rise no more. The other four determined to stick by the wreck; and one of them died before assistance reached them.

Did the other three arrive in safety, Uncle Thomas?

I believe they did, Frank; one of them was, however, shortly afterwards found murdered in his bed. But I dare say you have had enough of horrors for the evening; so, I believe I must stop.

Oh yes, Uncle Thomas, quite enough for one evening. We will therefore bid you good night.

Good night, boys: I will be glad to see you again to-morrow.

CHAPTER VII. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE WINTERTON EAST INDIAMAN.

Good evening, boys. I am glad to see you so early. I have "a long yarn to spin" to-night, as the sailors say; though fortunately it contains fewer horrors than that of last evening. The strife of the elements is in deed as strong, but the angry passions of man—more dreadful than the fiercest storm—form no part of the tale.

I am glad of it, Uncle Thomas. The shocking conduct of the mutineers on board the raft, after leaving the Medusa, of which you told us last night, makes me shudder when I think of it.

Intoxicating drinks, my boys, often make men mad. The tale which I am going to tell you this evening, is that of the loss of the Winterton, an East Indiaman, which was wrecked on the Island of Madagascar, on her passage to India. The Winterton sailed from England in the spring of 1792, and arrived at the Cape of Good Hope in safety. On leaving the Cape, it was Captain Dundas's intention to have taken what is called the outer passage to India, but, encountering light, variable winds, he was obliged to abandon his original design, and bore away for the Mozambique Channel.

In order to avoid a shoal, which he knew to be somewhat incorrectly laid down in the charts, Captain Dundas steered east. Thinking he had sufficiently accomplished this, he altered his course; but had scarcely sailed in this new direction for three hours, when the ship, which they supposed to be sixty miles distant from land, struck.

The boats were instantly got out, and on sounding they found deep water within fifty yards of the stern of the vessel.

Every exertion was made to get her off, but without avail. Day-light soon disclosed to them the dangers of their situation. The ship had struck on a reef of rocks, about six miles from land.

As the tide ebbed, the ship beat violently, and began to leak, and by-and-by the rudder was broken off, and the copper sheathing of the vessel came up alongside her; but as she lay comparatively quiet, hopes were entertained that they might succeed in getting her off next tide. With this view they proceeded to lighten her by every means, throwing the guns overboard—carrying them to such a distance as to prevent their injuring the ship as she again rose with the tide. When, however, they had succeeded in removing about half the number, the sea-breeze set in fresh, and prevented the boats from approaching the ship's side. They continued, notwithstanding, to relieve her as much as possible, by throwing overboard such heavy articles as the tide would carry away. At high water they renewed their exertions to heave the ship off; but were again unsuccessful. The leak had by this time gained on the pumps, in spite of their utmost exertions.

It being evident that the ship was irrecoverably lost, the great object now was to secure the safety of the passengers and crew. The masts were cut away, in order to relieve the vessel, and such spars as the surf prevented being borne away by the tide, were secured for the purpose of making rafts to assist in conveying the passengers on shore. In order to prevent such scenes of drunkenness as have sometimes disgraced shipwrecks, every cask of spirits which could be reached was staved.

Towards evening, a party was sent on shore in the yawl, to prepare a convenient place for landing; and the captain addressed the crew, directing them as to the proper course of procedure on reaching the shore, and stating his determination to abide by the ship till the safety of every person on board was secured. This manly address reanimated the drooping courage of the crew.

During the night the wind increased, and several of the boats were dashed in pieces by the violence of the surf. Thus deprived of the means of transporting themselves on shore, and the ship, in the meantime, beating with such frightful violence against the rocks, as threatened every instant to break her in pieces, they passed a night of the greatest consternation and anxiety.

As soon as daylight set in, they began to construct rafts, of such materials as they could procure. Three or four of these constructions left the ship, carrying about eighty persons, all of whom succeeded in reaching the shore. In the meantime the breeze continued to freshen, till at length it became so violent, that the hawser which held the ship's stern to the wind parted, and she drove with her broadside on the rocks, the sea making a complete breach over her. She soon began to break up, when every one crowded to the-quarter-deck and poop, as the only place which afforded any chance of safety: in a short time this retreat also failed, the vessel going completely in pieces. Some of these were driven on shore in various places, bearing with them such of the crew as had managed to secure a footing upon them; but the gallant captain fell a victim to the waves.

For several days, portions of the wreck continued to drift on shore, generally bringing with them some part of the crew. On gathering the survivers together, it was found that the captain, the first mate, three young ladies, and forty-eight seamen, had perished. But the trials of the survivers were not at an end. The natives, attracted by the wreck, flocked to the shore, and, seizing on everything of value that had either been saved or was cast on shore, threatened every one who opposed them with instant death.

At length they reached Tulliar, the residence of the king of Baba, by whom they were kindly received. The yawl, which you will recollect had been sent on shore on the evening previous to the breaking up of the vessel, was then equipped and despatched to Mozambique, to endeavor to procure a ship to come to their rescue. After sailing for some days, they reached the coast of Africa; but being unable to make head against the northerly winds, they were forced to steer for Sofala, a Portuguese settlement, where they arrived in safety.

Unfortunately, but a single vessel touched at the settlement in the course of the year; and it had sailed about a month before. Finding that there was here no hope of obtaining relief for their companions, they again set sail, intending to proceed to Delagoa bay, in the expectation of falling in with some of the South Sea ships, which touch there annually in considerable numbers. Contrary winds, however, and the leaky state of their boat, soon forced them to return to Sofala. The governor received them, this time, in a very different manner from that which he had shown to them on their former visit, and with little ceremony insisted on the whole party proceeding with his messengers to Senna, an inland settlement.

For five weeks they travelled through a miserable country, very thinly inhabited, and exposed to the intense heat of the sun, and many dangers from the wild beasts with which the country abounds. The fatigue which they underwent on this journey was too much for several of the party, who died shortly after their arrival.

At length, five months after leaving Madagascar, two of the forty reached Mozambique. Here they freighted a vessel, and proceeded to the rescue of their unfortunate comrades in misfortune. They found them in a most melancholy plight. Disease and despair had been at work among them; nearly one half of those who were saved from the wreck had perished. The others, emaciated and worn out, were embarked, and, with the exception of seven, who expired on the passage, reached Mozambique, where, in spite of every attention which was lavished on them by the governor and the inhabitants, about thirty of them died within two months of their arrival.

When the others were so far recovered as to be able to proceed, they again hired a vessel to carry them to Madras; but, before they reached it, the ship was captured by a French privateer. Part of the crew the privateer took on board their own ship, and put a number of their men into the captured vessel, with orders to proceed to the Mauritius with all possible speed. The privateer then continued her cruise, and in a few days falling in with a Dutch East Indiaman, engaged with her; but the Dutchmen proving victors, the remains of the crew of the unfortunate Winterton were once more set at liberty. They at length reached Madras; whence they sailed for England in the Scorpion sloop-of-war.

Poor fellows! they seem to have been very unlucky, Uncle Thomas. The rest of the crew, who were carried to the Mauritius, did they get home in safety also, Uncle Thomas?

Oh, I had almost forgotten to tell you about them, Frank. They never reached England; nor could the least intelligence be heard of them, though the East India Company caused the most diligent inquiries to be made after them.

Do you think they were again shipwrecked, Uncle Thomas?

That I won't say: but I rather fear there was foul play somewhere. Without some certain grounds to go upon, however, it is useless to conjecture. So I must bid you good night.

Good night, Uncle Thomas!

CHAPTER VIII. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

Perilous as is the life of a sailor, boys, during the raging of the storm, or when far at sea in the middle of the trackless ocean, he is still exposed to danger even when his ship rides at anchor in the fancied security of some friendly port. I dare say you have all heard of the loss of the Royal George, one of the first-rate ships in the British navy, which sank off Spithead, fifty-six years ago. The sudden and unexpected event, and the vast number of persons who fell victims, caused the greatest excitement at the time.

I have often heard of the loss of the Royal George, Uncle Thomas, but I never could get any information about it. Will you have the goodness to tell us about it?

With pleasure, boys. The vessel had just returned from a cruise, in which it was found that she leaked more than usual, and as the leakage continued even after she came into harbor, an order was issued by the Admiralty that she should go into dock to repair. After a strict survey, however, by the carpenter and others, it was found that the leak was not more than two feet below the watermark, and supposing it to be occasioned by the rubbing off of the copper sheathing, it was resolved, in order to save time, to lay her down at Spithead, by what is called a parliament heel; that is, by means of ropes attached to the masts, to pull her over so much to one side as to expose the other above water. In the meantime it was discovered that the pipe, which occasionally admitted the water to cleanse and sweeten the ship, was out of order, and that it was necessary to replace it with a new one. As the vessel required to be heeled very much for this purpose, the greater part of the guns were removed from one side to the other; but as she was not expected to heel so much as she did, they neglected to stop the scuppers of the lower decks, so that the water coming in on deck, gradually gained upon them, and the vessel thus for some time stole down imperceptibly.

During this time the greater part of the crew were at dinner; but the carpenters and caulkers continued at their work, and had almost finished it, when a sudden squall took the ship on the raised side, and the lower deck ports to leeward being open, the water rushed in. As soon as the dangerous situation of the vessel was discovered, they beat to arms to right the ship, but in vain: in less than eight minutes she fell flat on one side, filled with water, and the guns, shot, &c., falling from the other side, accelerated her descent. She sunk to the bottom so rapidly that no signal of distress could be made; nor indeed could any assistance have availed if there had, for after her lower ports were fairly in the water, no power on earth could have prevented her from going to the bottom.

At this fatal moment there were nearly twelve hundred persons on board, including about two hundred and fifty women and several children, chiefly belonging to the seamen, who had been permitted to remain on board until the order for sailing arrived. The people who formed the watch upon deck, including their friends, amounting in all to about two hundred and thirty, were mostly saved by the boats, which the ships lying near the Royal George manned and sent to their assistance, with the utmost expedition, when they observed the vessel was sinking. Their assistance was, however, for some time necessarily delayed, as the swell occasioned by the sinking of such a large body produced a temporary whirlpool, which rendered approach impossible; a victualling sloop indeed, which lay alongside the Royal George, was drawn into the vortex, and seven of her crew were drowned. The boats also picked up about seventy more, who rose to the surface after the ship had disappeared, among whom were four lieutenants, eleven women, and the remainder seamen.

Among the officers thus snatched from the brink of eternity, was Lieutenant Durham, who, being officer of the watch, was upon deck at the time when he observed the vessel going down. He had just time to throw off his coat and scramble on the beam, from which he was washed as the ship sunk, and left floating about among men and hammocks. A drowning marine caught him by the waistcoat, and held him so fast, that several times he was drawn under water. It was in vain to reason with a man struggling for life; and conscious of the certainty of neither being saved, if he did not disentangle himself from his burden, he clung with his legs round a hammock, and with one hand unbuttoning his waistcoat and sloping his shoulder, committed it, with the unfortunate marine, to the remorseless deep. He then got to some of the top rigging, where a boat soon afterwards came to him, but he nobly declined the assistance offered, and pointing out to them where Captain Waghorne was in great danger, he desired them to go to his relief: the gallant youth was at length taken up and conveyed in safety to the shore.

The preservation of another young man, named Henry Bishop, was effected in a very extraordinary manner. He was on the lower deck at the time of the fatal accident, and as the vessel filled, the force of the water hurried him, almost insensibly, up the hatchway, when, at the instant, he was met by one of the guns which fell from the middle deck, which striking him on his left hand, broke three of his fingers; in a few seconds, however, he found himself floating on the surface of the water, and was providentially picked up by one of the boats.

Every effort was made by the boats of the fleet to save the crew; but they were able to pick up only Captain Waghorne, a few officers, and about three hundred people. By this dreadful and unlooked-for accident, nearly nine hundred persons lost their lives; among whom was Admiral Kempenfelt, whose flag was then flying on board the Royal George, and whose loss was universally lamented. Besides the Admiral, who was in his cabin writing when the sudden disaster happened, every one who was between the decks perished with her. Captain Waghorne, the Admiral's first captain, was, fortunately, on deck; but his son, who was a lieutenant on board, was drowned.

The water must have been very deep, Uncle Thomas, to cover such a large vessel. But I suppose she lay on her side.

No, Harry, she did not: a great number of persons were saved by climbing on the topsail yards, which remained above water after the vessel reached the bottom. She very soon righted herself, and the tops of her masts were visible so late as 1799; part of her hull even might then be seen at low water.

Could not the Royal George be got up again, Uncle Thomas? I should have thought that, being quite sound and in still water, she might have been weighed.

Several attempts were made to weigh her, Frank; but they were all unsuccessful. Her anchor and some of her guns were, however, recovered by means of diving bells. Her anchor was the heaviest ever made—it weighed ninety-eight hundred weight.

In the churchyard at Portsea, an elegant monument was erected to the memory of the brave Admiral Kempenfelt and his fellow-sufferers. On it is engraved this impressive admonition:—

"Reader! with solemn thought survey this grave, and reflect on the untimely death of thy fellow-mortals; and whilst, as a man, a Briton, and a patriot, thou readest the melancholy narrative, drop a tear for thy country's loss. On the twenty-ninth day of August, 1782, his Majesty's ship, the Royal George, being on the heel at Spithead, overset and sunk: by which fatal accident about nine hundred persons were instantly launched into eternity; among whom was that brave and experienced officer, Rear Admiral Kempenfelt. Nine days after, many of the bodies of the unfortunate floated; thirty-five of whom were interred in one grave, near this monument, which is erected by the parish of Portsea, as a grateful tribute to the memory of that great commander and his fellow-sufferers."

Good night, Uncle Thomas.

CHAPTER IX. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE STEAMERS KILLARNEY AND FORFARSHIRE.

Good evening, boys! The sudden and unexpected disappearance of the Royal George, though, from the size of the vessel, and the number of lives which were lost on the occasion, an event sufficiently appalling, is yet frequently outdone, in intensity of suffering, by cases of shipwreck which happen on our coasts. To-night, I am going to tell you about the loss of two steam vessels, both of which afford remarkable instances of extreme suffering.

The first is that of the Killarney, a small steamer of about two hundred tons burthen, which sailed between Cork and Bristol. She left the quay at Cork, on the morning of Friday, January 19, 1838, having on board twenty-one passengers, and twenty-two persons belonging to the vessel. Her cargo consisted of about one hundred tons of goods, and six hundred and fifty pigs, part of which were in the fore hold, and the rest on deck.

Soon after she had left the harbor she encountered a gale, and the number of pigs causing her to dip considerably, she shipped several seas, which alarmed the passengers so much, that they prevailed on the captain to put back.

In the evening, the wind having somewhat moderated, the captain, contrary to the wishes of the passengers, resumed his voyage. The vessel had, however, scarcely left the harbor, when the wind again rose, and kept increasing till it blew a gale. This continued until midnight, the vessel rolling dreadfully, and every wave that struck her causing her to dip so deeply, that she shipped several seas. A great quantity of water poured down into the fore hold, the hatches having been left open in order to admit the air to the pigs which were confined in it.

As matters began to wear a threatening aspect, the captain requested that every person on board would assist in throwing overboard the pigs which were on deck, which crowded to the lee-side of the vessel so as almost to render her unmanageable. They found this, however, a matter of great difficulty, and were able thus to dispose of a very small number only.

The sea, in the meantime, continued to wash over the deck, and to pour into the hold. Up to four o'clock, on Saturday morning, they managed, by means of pumps which were worked by the engine, to get rid of this water; but about that hour some small coal got into the pumps and choked them. The water then rose rapidly, until it reached the level of the engine-fire, when it rushed in, and at once extinguished it. The engine no longer moved, and all was given up for lost.

After a few minutes of abandonment to despair, the sailors, and part of the passengers, seizing buckets, began to endeavor to lighten the vessel of some of the water in the hold, and after several hours of hard labor, they so far gained upon it as to enable them once more to light the fire, and to get the steam partly up again. They were at this time utterly ignorant of where they were, or whither they were going, for the fog was so dense that no object was visible. They endeavored to keep the vessel's head to the wind, but, after some time, they found they were going to leeward. The jibsail was then set, in order to keep her steady, but no sooner was it run out than it was blown into ribbons. About three o'clock the fog cleared away, and they saw land behind them, but no one could tell with certainty what part of the coast it was. It was then blowing a complete hurricane; the shore was covered with rocks, and they saw that, if they drifted towards it, destruction was inevitable. By the captain's orders, the mainsail was set, and the engine-men were directed to do their utmost to get up the steam, in order to keep her off. The steam, unfortunately, was so weak as to be of no assistance—it scarcely moved the crank; and the sail had to be hauled down, lest it should throw the vessel on her beam ends. The staysail was then tried, in the hope that it would enable them to round the point; but the storm was so violent that they could not haul it out.

The vessel was in the meantime drifting nearer to the rock on which she ultimately struck. After great exertions they succeeded in turning her round, to endeavor to make for a bay which promised a place of safety. Just as they had succeeded in getting her before the wind, she was, however, pooped by a tremendous sea, which carried away the taffrail, the wheel, and the two men who worked it, the companion, the binnacle, and the breakwater. The men fortunately caught part of the rigging, and were saved; but the sea carried away the bulwarks, with some of the steerage passengers who were standing near the funnel, and at once cleared the deck of all the pigs.

When the vessel was nearing the rock, and before she put about, the steward went down to call the cabin passengers on deck. They were on their way up when the sea passed over the vessel. A second wave succeeded almost immediately, and scarcely had two of them stepped on the quarter-deck when they were hurried overboard. These two seas had the effect of bringing the head of the vessel somewhat to windward again, when a third wave rapidly succeeded, and drove her on the rock. It was then between four and five o'clock. The first stroke she gave, the carpenter jumped on the rock; he was followed by one of the passengers, but the landing-place was so narrow that there was not room for both, and the latter fell into the water and was drowned. After striking, the vessel receded; she soon struck again, and continued receding and striking for some time, during which some of the sailors, the first mate, and the captain landed. When the latter got on the rock, a rope was thrown to him and the mate, that they might endeavor to keep the vessel to the rock. Most of the sailors and some of the passengers were saved in this way, one only landing at a time.

Before leaving the vessel, the steward scrambled along the deck to look for Mrs. Lawe, one of the passengers, who had distinguished herself by her calmness, and the firm reliance she placed on a protecting Providence. He found her near the funnel, calm and collected; with some difficulty he brought her to the quarter-gallery, and loosing the rope, he handed it to her, directing her to take hold of it, and, when the vessel next struck, to leap into the sea, and they would drag her to the rock. She did so, and was drawn up part of the way, but having quitted her hold of the rope, she was carried away by the receding wave, and never seen again. The steward leaped almost at the same moment, and was saved. The last persons who left the vessel were a sailor and a woman—the latter supposed to be the stewardess. She appeared to be insensible; and the sailor, who seemed to have brought her from the cabin, had her in his arms. He leaped from the vessel, and reached the rock, the woman under one arm; but the footing was narrow, and the rock was shelving. He had room for little more than his toes, and was obliged to endeavor to hold on with the fingers of one hand, but the weight of the woman inclining him backwards, they fell into the sea, and both were drowned.

The manner in which some of the lives were lost was peculiarly affecting. A medical gentleman, one of the passengers, had his little son in his arms, soothing and supporting him, and when the vessel struck, he flung him with all his strength towards the rock. The child reached it in safety, though the violence of the effort nearly carried the father overboard. When the latter gained the rock, he again took him in his arms, and, by clasping him closely, endeavored to keep him warm. "Kiss me, papa," said the little fellow, "we shall soon meet no more." The child was right. In a few minutes he got on his feet, ventured a short distance from his father's side, and slipping from the rock, was at once swallowed up by the raging deep.

As soon as the steward loosed the rope to give it to Mrs. Lawe, the vessel having nothing to confine her, swung round, and the next sea that struck her drove her against the rock; her deck opened, she divided into two, fore and aft, and every one who remained on board perished. In an hour after, with the exception of the engine and the paddle-wheel, not a vestige of the vessel or of her machinery was visible.

There were now about twenty-five persons on the rock. The sailors had contrived to clamber to a sheltered side, but the situation of the passengers was pitiable in the extreme. One who had on but a shirt and waistcoat, was seated astride on a projection of the rock, his face towards the sea. Under him was another, his back to the sea, his toes resting on a narrow ledge, and his fingers clinging in a crevice; while close beside them were others equally exposed and equally helpless.

The persons on the side next the land observing some country people—about eighteen or twenty—on the shore, shouted to them, hoping to attract their attention, but there was no answer. The probability is, that the sound never reached the land, as they saw the people subsequently descend and carry off some of the pigs that had been washed ashore. Night came on. About eleven o'clock the wind rose and blew terrifically, but, even amid the raging of the storm, a startling shriek was now and then heard, as one after another, unable longer to maintain their hold, fell into the sea.

When morning broke, the survivers clambered to the sheltered side of the rock. As they had now been discovered by the people on shore, great exertions were made to relieve them; but, as the storm continued unabated, it was found impossible to reach the rock. Ducks with ropes fastened to them were sent out; only one arrived, and that they were unable to catch. Wire was attached to bullets, and rope to the wire, and sundry shots were fired; but this means also was unsuccessful.

The whole of Sunday was spent in a variety of experiments to convey a rope to the rock, without success. The feelings of the sufferers it would be impossible to describe, and their agony, when they saw the attempt to rescue them abandoned—when darkness settled down upon the deep, and they could no longer distinguish the figures of the persons on the cliff above them, it would not be easy to imagine. Their sole sustenance, during the two tedious days and nights which they had passed since the wreck, was a little salt water and the few scraps of seaweed that they could gather from one of the bleakest and most barren rocks on the coast. The night, however, was not so tempestuous as the preceding, and at daylight the shore was once more crowded by persons, all anxious to lend their assistance.

On Monday morning, Captain Manby's life-preserving apparatus was brought to their assistance, but the same difficulty was experienced in reaching the rock with the rope. Shots were again fired from guns and small cannon brought for the purpose, but without success. At length, a plan, which had been unsuccessful on the preceding day, succeeded, and about eleven o'clock two loaves of bread, and a little wine and spirits, were lowered to them—the first they had partaken of since Friday. After refreshing themselves, they were hauled up, one by one. Of the forty-three persons who embarked on Friday morning, thirteen only escaped, and of these one died soon after their rescue.

Dreadful, Uncle Thomas! I wonder they were not all starved to death, exposed as they were to the cold of two January nights.

It was indeed surprising, Harry, that any of them escaped. Some of them were nearly destitute of clothing. I told you of one of the passengers who was all but naked, and the woman who escaped passed the time on the rock with only her night-dress and a small handkerchief to cover her.

The other wreck, of which I promised to tell you this evening, is that of the Forfarshire, also a steamer, which sailed between Hull and Dundee. She left Hull on the evening of Wednesday, September 5th, 1838, having on board a valuable cargo, and upwards of forty passengers. Her crew consisted of twenty-one persons; the captain's wife accompanied him on the voyage.

The Forfarshire had not proceeded far when a leak was discovered in the boiler. This rendered it necessary to extinguish two of the fires, which were, however, relighted when the boiler had been partially repaired. The vessel continued her course until the following evening, by which time she had proceeded as far as Berwick Bay, when the leak again appeared. It had now become so great, that the greatest difficulty was experienced in keeping the boilers filled, the water escaping through the leak as fast as it was pumped in. The wind was blowing strong and the sea running high, and the leak increased so much from the motion of the vessel, that the fires were extinguished, and the engines, of course, became entirely useless. It was now about ten o'clock at night, and they were off St. Abbs' Head, a bold promontory on the Scottish coast. There being great danger of drifting ashore, the sails were hoisted fore and aft, and the vessel put about in order to get her before the wind, and keep her off the land. She soon became unmanageable, and the tide setting strong to the south, she proceeded in that direction. It rained heavily during the whole time, and the fog was so dense that it became impossible to tell the situation of the vessel. At length breakers were discovered close to leeward, and the Ferne Lights, which about the same period became visible, put an end to all doubt as to the imminent peril of the unfortunate vessel. An attempt was made to run her between the Ferne Islands, but she refused to obey the helm, and at three o'clock on Friday morning, she struck with tremendous force against the outer or Longstone Island.

At the moment the vessel struck, most of the passengers were below, and many of them asleep in their berths. One, alarmed by the shock, started up, and seizing his trousers only, rushed upon deck. When he reached it, he found everything in confusion, and seeing part of the crew hoisting out a boat, he sprang into it. The raging of the sea instantly separated it from the vessel, and though several of the other passengers attempted to reach it, they were unsuccessful, and perished in the attempt. The boat itself escaped by something little short of a miracle. There was but one outlet by which it could avoid being dashed in pieces on the breakers by which it was surrounded. This outlet it providentially took without its crew being aware of it; and after being exposed to the storm all night, it was picked up by a sloop and carried into Shields.

In less than five minutes after the vessel struck, a second shock separated her into two parts—the stern, quarter-deck, and cabin being instantly borne away, through a passage called the Piper Gut, by a tremendous current, which runs with considerable violence even in temperate weather—with a rapidity of about six miles an hour—but which, when the weather is tempestuous, flows with a force truly terrific.

The fore part of the vessel, in the meantime, remained fast on the rock, and to it still clung the few passengers who remained, every instant expecting to share the fate of their unfortunate companions, whom they had seen swept away by the raging element. In this dreadful situation their cries attracted the notice of Grace Darling, the daughter of the keeper of the Outer Ferne Lighthouse. With a noble heroism, she immediately determined to attempt their rescue, in spite of the raging of the storm, and the all but certain destruction which threatened to attend it.

Having hastily awakened her father, he launched his boat at day-break, and, with a generous sympathy worthy of the father of Grace Darling, prepared to proceed to their rescue. The gale, in the meantime, continued unabated, and the boiling of the waves threatened a speedy destruction to their frail boat. It was therefore with a heart full of the most fearful forebodings, that he undertook the perilous enterprise. After watching the wreck for some time, they discovered that living beings were still clinging to it, and the gallant young woman, with matchless intrepidity, seized an oar and entered the boat. This was enough—her father followed; and, with the assistance of his daughter, conducted the frail skiff over the foaming billows to the spot where the wreck appeared. By a dangerous and desperate effort he was landed on the rock, and to preserve the frail boat from being dashed to pieces, it was rapidly rowed back among the awful abyss of waters, and kept afloat by the skilfulness and dexterity of this noble-minded young woman. At length the whole of the survivers, consisting of five of the crew and four of the passengers, were taken from the wreck, and conveyed to the light-house, where she ministered to their wants, and anxiously, for three days and three nights, waited on the sufferers, and soothed their afflictions. This perilous achievement, unexampled in the feats of female fortitude, was witnessed by the survivers in silent wonder. The weather continued so tempestuous that the mainland could not be reached till Sunday, when the nine persons, saved by the gallant heroism of the Darlings, were landed in safety; thus making the entire number of persons saved from the wreck eighteen. All the others perished.

Those who found refuge on the rock on which the vessel struck, suffered severely during the night from the cold and the heavy seas which, at intervals, washed over them. The female passenger, who escaped, sat with her two children, a boy and a girl, the one eight and the other eleven years of age, firmly grasped in each hand, long after the buffetings of the waves had deprived them of existence. The captain and his wife were washed from the wreck, clasped in each other's arms, and both drowned.

It was indeed a noble act, Uncle Thomas! I wonder she was not afraid that her boat would share the fate of the steam-vessel, and be dashed in pieces on the rock.

It was an act of heroism, boys, to which you will find few parallels; nor has it been without its reward. Besides the satisfaction of saving nine fellow-creatures from certain destruction, the fame of the heroic act has spread far and wide, and its praise been on every tongue. Painters, of no mean power, have portrayed the scene, and its memory will be thus preserved. Presents have besides poured in upon her and her father, and everything been done to mark the public sympathy and approbation of the daring and disinterested deed.

A coroner's inquest was held on the bodies of four of the sufferers, which were washed ashore. The jury returned a verdict "Wrecked on board the Forfarshire steam-packet, by the imperfection of her boilers, and the culpable negligence of the captain in not putting back to port."

Was the vessel completely destroyed, Uncle Thomas?

The only part of the vessel which remained, Harry, consisted of the forecastle, part of the engine, the paddle-wheels, and part of the rigging. One of the boilers was thrown upon the rock, the other disappeared in the sea. Of the valuable cargo, a few boxes of soap only were recovered.

CHAPTER X. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE ALBION NEW YORK PACKET.

Many of the tales of shipwrecks which have happened on our shores, are extremely distressing; none more so, perhaps, than that of the Albion packet, which was wrecked on the Irish coast, in 1822.

The Albion was one of the first-class packet ships between New York and Liverpool, and sailed from the former place on the first of April, having on board twenty-three cabin and six steerage passengers, her crew consisting of twenty-five persons; making the entire number who embarked fifty-four. For the first twenty days the voyage was prosperous and pleasant. About two o'clock on Sunday the 21st, they made Cape Clear, and the weather, which had, during the earlier part of the voyage, been moderate and favorable, now became thick and foggy, the wind blowing fresh, with heavy squalls from the southward. The ship had been carrying all her canvass, but as the gale increased they were obliged to shorten sail. At four o'clock, they were under double-reefed topsails, foresail, and mainsail, when a sudden squall carried away the fore-yard and split the fore-topsail. They therefore got the broken yard down, and prepared to replace it by another.

As night came on, the decks were cleared for working the ship; the wind, however, lulled, and it was supposed that the storm of the day was over. As they were near the coast, all hands flattered themselves they should, in a short time, reach their destined harbor, and be once more secure from the dangers of the deep. About nine o'clock, the ship was struck by a tremendous sea, which threw her on her beam-ends, and carried away the mainmast by the board, the heads of the mizenmast and fore-topmast, sweeping the deck clear of everything, including boats, caboose-house, and bulwarks, and staving in all the hatches, and state-rooms, and nearly filling the cabin with water. It also carried away six of the crew and one of the cabin passengers, and, in short, so destructive was its influence, that it left the Albion in the state of a wreck.

As the ship now became unmanageable, and the sea continued to make a complete breach over her, both crew and passengers were obliged to lash themselves to the pumps, in order to keep themselves from being washed away while working them. All who were unnecessary or unable to afford assistance on deck retired below, but the water was knee-deep in the cabin, and the furniture floating about rendered their situation dangerous and dreadful. On deck they were in total darkness, and having no correct compasses, they could not tell how the ship's head lay.

About one o'clock in the morning of the 22d, they made the light of the Old Head of Kinsale, a light-house on the Irish coast, but could not ascertain its bearing, and at two o'clock they found the ship embayed. All night long the wind had blown directly on shore, towards which the vessel was drifting at the rate of about three miles an hour. The complete hopelessness of their situation was known to few on board; but to Captain Williams the coast was familiar, and he must have seen, in despair and horror, throughout the night, the certainty of their fate. At length the noise of the ocean roaring and dashing upon the rocky and precipitous shore, spoke too plainly of the fate that awaited them. The captain, seeing that the crisis was now close at hand, and that the wreck of the vessel was inevitable, summoned all the passengers on deck, and briefly told them that each must prepare to save himself, as the ship must soon strike—it was impossible to preserve her. The scene was one of the most touching description; many of them had received considerable injury when the sea first struck the ship, and were scarcely able to come on deck; others were completely exhausted from having been incessantly assisting at the pumps; and one gentleman, who had been extremely ill during the voyage, Mr. William Everhart, of Chester, Pennsylvania, was too feeble to crawl to the deck without assistance, though, strange to say, he was the only cabin passenger who was saved.

The situation of the passengers on board the Albion was, at this moment, one of peculiar agony, as they watched, without the power of resistance, the deadly and relentless blast impelling them to destruction—the ship a wreck—and the raging of the billows against the precipice on which they were driving, sending back from the rocky caverns the hoarse and melancholy warnings of death. In such a situation, the stoutest heart must have quailed with utter despair.

As the morning dawned, the Albion struck on a reef, her upper-works beat in over the rocks, and in about half an hour she parted midships, her quarter-deck drifting on the top of the inside ledge, immediately under the cliffs. The perpendicular precipice of rocks, under which the unfortunate vessel struck, is nearly two hundred feet in height, in the base of which, the sea beating for ages, has worn large caverns, into which the waves rush violently, sending back a deep and hollow sound; after striking against the rock, they are thrown back in various directions, forming whirlpools of great violence. For some distance from the precipice, rocks rise out of the water, broad at bottom, and sharp at top: on one of these the Albion first struck; the next wave threw her farther on the rock, the third farther still, until, nearly balanced, she swung round, and her stern was driven against another, closer in shore.

In this perilous situation, every wave making a complete breach over her, many of the passengers and crew were drowned on deck. Captain Williams, worn out with the extraordinary exertions which, up to the last moment, he continued to make for the preservation of the lives of the unfortunate passengers and crew, was, with several others, swept away soon after the vessel struck.

A short time before she parted, the mate and six of the crew managed to gain a rock, but so exhausted were they by their previous exertions, and by the dashing of the waves, which every instant washed over them, that the mate was washed off; fortunately, however, he regained his position before the return of the sea. So exhausted was he, that before he could attempt to climb the rock, which was nearly perpendicular, he was obliged to lie down to recover strength from the severe bruises and contusions which he had received. One of the passengers also reached the rock alive, but, together with one of the stewards, he was washed off and drowned.

Perceiving that the stern was higher out of water than the fore part of the wreck, and the sea had less power in its sweep over it, Mr. Everhart went aft. He now saw that the bottom had been broken out of the ship. The heavy articles must have sunk, and the cotton and lighter articles were floating around, dashed by every wave against the rocks. Presently the ship broke in two, and all who remained near the bow were lost. Several had got on the side of the precipice from the stern of the ship, and were hanging by the crags. Although weakened by previous sickness and present suffering, Mr. Everhart made an effort and got upon the rock, and stood upon one foot, which was the only hold he could obtain. He saw several of his fellow-sufferers around him, and, among the rest, Colonel Prevost, who, on seeing him take his station, remarked, "Here is another poor fellow," But the waves rolling heavily against them, and often dashing the spray fifty feet above their heads, gradually swept them away, one after another. One of the sailors, losing his hold, attempted to grasp Mr. Everhart's leg, and nearly pulled him from his place. Weak and ill as he was, however, he contrived to retain his position, and stood for several hours on one foot on a little crag, the billows dashing over him, and quite benumbed with cold.

By day-light, the wreck having been discovered, as soon as the ebbing of the tide rendered it practicable, the country people descended the rocks as far as they could, and dropped Mr. Everhart a rope, which he fastened round his body, and was drawn up to a place of safety. Of twenty-three cabin passengers he alone escaped.

Many of the passengers who were lost in this melancholy shipwreck, held distinguished stations in society. The most eminent sufferer was Gen. Lefebvre Desnouettes, who, during a long series of years, had braved death in the field of battle, and escaped to perish at last in this catastrophe, when his mind was, perhaps, less than at any other period of his life, reconciled to the stroke of fate. His situation was every way peculiar. It is well known that he had been one of the favorite and most distinguished of Napoleon's military generals, and that he took part in the combination against Louis XVIII. On the landing of his old commander from Elba, with headlong enthusiasm he joined him in his last campaign, and being proscribed by the royal government, took refuge in the United States. Here his misfortunes, reputation, intelligence, and manly, unexceptionable deportment, rendered him an object of universal esteem. To escape, as he used to remark, pity and curiosity, and to gratify the natural activity of his mind, he retired to the territory granted to the French exiles in the State of Alabama, where he labored in the fields, under the burning sun, with a reckless exertion, which proved very injurious to his health. His wife, an amiable and accomplished woman, remained behind in France to look after his interests there. Having begun his agricultural toil, he never quitted it until his final departure from the country, except to visit Washington on business. At length, he addressed a petition to the French government, praying to be allowed to return home. He received directions to proceed to Holland, and there wait the final pleasure of the king; and, on his way to Liverpool, met with a watery grave on the Irish coast.

It is a very affecting tale indeed, Uncle Thomas! How shocking to think that, after crossing the Atlantic ocean in safety, they should perish when almost within sight of home!

CHAPTER XI. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS OF THE LOSS OF THE DODDINGTON EAST INDIAMAN.

This evening, boys, I am going to tell you of the loss of the Doddington, which was wrecked on a barren, uninhabited rock, when nearly two hundred persons lost their lives.

The Doddington sailed from the Downs, April 23d, 1755, in company with four others of the East India Company's ships. On the 20th of May, they made Bonavista, one of the Cape de Verd Islands, and on the 21st got into Port Prior Bay, for the purpose of taking in a supply of fresh water. On the 27th, she proceeded on her voyage, in company with three of the vessels with which she had at first set out, leaving the other, which had not yet completed her refitment, in the roads. They continued together until the following day, when the Captain, thinking that their course was too easterly, ordered the Doddington to be kept south; and after a fine run of seven weeks, she made the land of the Cape of Good Hope.

On the 5th of July, they took their departure from Cape Needles, and the vessel having steered eastward about twenty-four hours, the Captain ordered her to be kept E. N. E. In this course she continued till about a quarter before one on the morning of Thursday the 17th of July, when she struck.

The officer whose journal furnishes materials for the following narrative, was, at the time of the accident, asleep in his cabin; but being suddenly awakened by the shock, he started up in the utmost consternation, and hurried upon deck. He found the sea rolling over the ship with the utmost violence, and sweeping the men overboard, while the beating of the surge upon the vessel threatened, every instant, to dash her in pieces. On reaching the larboard side of the deck, which lay highest out of the water, he encountered the Captain, who told him in a very little time they must all perish; in a few minutes a sea parted them, and he saw him no more. He managed, by dint of great exertion, to get back to the quarter-deck, though he was much bruised and had the small bone of his left arm broken; the other portion of the ship was, in the meantime, overwhelmed by the waves and completely shattered in pieces.

In this dreadful situation, when every minute he expected would be the last of all who still clung to the wreck, he heard the welcome cry of "Land!" and looked eagerly about him; but though he saw something which he supposed had been taken for land, he believed that it was only the bursting of the surge on the other side of the breakers. At this instant, the sea broke over him with such fury, that it not only forced him from his hold, but such was the violence of the blow, that he was stunned, and lay insensible till after daylight. On recovering, he found himself fixed to a plank by a nail that had been forced into his shoulder. Besides the pain of his wound, and the many bruises which he had sustained, he was so benumbed with cold that he could scarcely move. He now observed that several of the crew had got on the rocks which were near, and called out to them as loud as he could; but they were not able to give him any assistance, so that a considerable time elapsed before he was able to disengage himself from the wreck and get on shore.

On reaching the rock, he found twenty-three of his companions, which were all that had been able to save themselves out of two hundred and twenty individuals that were on board when the ship struck. Their first care was to search among the things that had been thrown on the rocks from the wreck, for something to cover them from the weather, and in this they succeeded almost beyond their expectations; but the attainment of fire was not so easily accomplished. Some of them made an unsuccessful attempt to kindle two pieces of wood by rubbing them together, while others diligently searched the rocks in anxious endeavors to find a substitute for flint and steel. After some time they found a box containing a couple of gun-flints and a broken file, which was a most joyful acquisition, though they still wanted tinder. After a further search, they discovered a cask of gunpowder, which, to their great disappointment, proved to be wet; but, on a more narrow inspection, they found a small quantity at the bottom that had suffered no damage. Some of this bruised on a linen rag, served their purpose very well.

Having at length succeeded in lighting a fire, the bruised and wounded collected round it, while the others went in search of further necessaries. A box of wax candles and a case of brandy were the first brought in, and soon afterwards another party returned, stating that they had discovered a cask almost full of fresh water, which was of greater consequence than the spirits, as there was no fresh water to be found on the island. They could also see at some distance several casks of water, flour, and beer; but it was not possible to get at them over the rocks.

It now became necessary to provide some shelter for the approaching night; all hands were therefore employed in making a tent of some canvass that had been cast ashore; but the quantity was so small that the tent would not hold them all, and for fear of being overflowed, they were obliged to erect it on the highest part of the island. Here they were so much exposed to the storm that their frail encampment was in danger of being blown away; their fire was scattered, and before they could collect the embers the rain extinguished them. On renewing their search in the morning, they found, to their great mortification, that all the casks which they had seen the preceding night, with the exception of one of flour and another of beer, had been staved against the rocks. These, however, they secured; but the tide flowing up soon after, interrupted their proceedings. As, in their desolate and forlorn situation, their thoughts naturally hurried from one subject to another in quest of some source of comfort, it was suggested by one of them that, as the carpenter was among them, he might build a vessel to carry them to a port of safety, provided they could obtain some tools and materials. The attention of every one was immediately directed towards the carpenter, who declared his belief that if tools and materials could be found, he should be able to build a bark; and though at that time there was no prospect of procuring either, yet no sooner had they thought their deliverance but one remove beyond total impossibility, than they seemed to think it neither impossible nor difficult. The boat engrossed their whole conversation, and they not only debated on her size and rigging, but to what port they should steer when she was fairly afloat. Some of them immediately dispersed in search of materials for their projected vessel, but they did not succeed in finding any. On the following day, however, they secured four butts of water, one cask of flour, one hogshead of brandy, and a small boat, which had been thrown up by the tide in a shattered condition; but no tools were found, with the exception of a scraper. Next day they had the good fortune to discover a box containing files, gimlets, sail-needles, and an azimuth compass-card; they also found two quadrants, a carpenter's adze, a chisel, three sword-blades, and a chest of treasure.

On Monday, the 20th of July, they recovered some more provisions, and also some timber-plank, canvass, and cordage, which they joyfully secured for their projected vessel, though still in want of many implements indispensable for the carpenter to proceed with his work. It happened, however, that one of the seamen, Hendrick Scanty, a native of Sweden, who had originally been a smith by profession, having picked up an old pair of bellows, told his companions that, by the aid of a forge, which they could build by his directions, he could furnish the carpenter with all necessary tools as well as nails, as plenty of iron could be obtained by burning it out of pieces of the wreck driven ashore. He began immediately to mend the bellows, and the three following days were occupied in building a tent and forge, and in collecting timber for the use of the carpenter, who was also employed in preparing the few tools already in his possession, that the boat might be begun as soon as possible.

In a few days the carpenter began to work on the keel of the vessel, which, it was determined, should be a sloop, thirty feet in length by twelve in width. The smith also finished his forge, and he and the carpenter continued thenceforward to work with indefatigable diligence, except when prevented by the weather. The smith, having fortunately found the ring and nut of a bower-anchor, which served him for an anvil, supplied chisels, axes, hammers and nails, as they were required, and the carpenter used them with great dexterity and despatch.

After having been nearly seven weeks upon the rock, during which time they had frequently seen a great smoke upon the main land, they determined to send the boat which had been recovered from the wreck, which the carpenter had so patched up as to fit it for sea, to ascertain what assistance could be obtained. For this purpose, three men set out on a voyage of discovery, the people making a great fire at night on the highest part of the rock, as a signal to them.

After waiting three days, the return of the boat was impatiently expected; but nothing being seen of it by noon they became very uneasy. At length, however, they discovered it approaching, but it was rowed by only one man, who plied both oars, and they consequently concluded that the other two had been lost or detained. Presently, however, another was seen to rise from the bottom of the boat, and their speed was a little increased.

Their interest and curiosity were wound up to the highest pitch, when the two men, jumping from the boat, threw themselves on the ground, and returned thanks to the Almighty for their deliverance. They were, however, so exhausted by the exertions which they had made, that they now sank on the ground and could not rise without assistance. When sufficiently recovered, they related their adventures since they left the island.

On the day of their departure, after sailing about six leagues to the eastward, they got round a point of land, and ventured to pull for the shore; but the moment they got into the surf, the boat was upset, by which their companion was unfortunately drowned. They managed, however, to reach the land, though in a very exhausted condition. On recovering a little, they crawled along the shore in search of the boat, as they had no other shelter from wild beasts, which might be expected to come abroad in the night, and after some search found her; but they were too weak to get her up, and were obliged to lie down on the sand, with no other covering than the branches of a tree. In the morning they again searched for the boat, which the surf had driven from the place where they left her, and in walking along the coast saw a man, who, on their approach, ran away into the woods. Soon afterwards they discovered the body of their unfortunate companion, which had been dragged some distance from the shore, and mangled by some wild beast, which so terrified them, that rather than undergo the dread of passing another night on shore, they resolved to return immediately. Encountering a gale from the west, the boat was once more upset, but after much struggling and swimming, they got safe to land, exhausted by their exertions and faint with hunger. Having managed to get the boat on shore, they turned it keel upwards and crept under it to sleep.

Wearied by their late exertions, they slept till the dawn of day, when, peeping out from under the edge of the boat, they saw the feet of several animals, which they supposed to be tigers, which induced them to remain under the boat till the day had well broke, when once more looking out they saw the feet of a man. On this discovery, they crept out, to the great amazement of a poor savage and two other men and a boy, who were at some distance. When they were a little recovered from their surprise, the savages made signs for them to go away, which they endeavored to do, though they began to move very slowly: but they had not got far when a considerable number of the natives ran down upon them with their lances, and took them prisoners.

They then rifled the boat, and took away all the rope they could find, and began to knock the boat in pieces, for the iron which they saw about it. With the exception of absolute destruction to these hapless mariners, this was the greatest calamity they could sustain; and, rough as they were, they burst into tears, and entreated the savages to desist, with such agony and distress, that they suffered the boat to remain without further injury. On the following morning, taking an opportunity of eluding the vigilance of the savages, they launched the boat for the third time, and returned to their companions on the rock.

This narrative was far from encouraging; nevertheless the carpenter continued his work with the greatest assiduity, and with such success, that, imperfect as were the tools with which he worked, on the 17th February 1756, they launched their little vessel, and bade adieu to the rock on which they had lived seven months. They weighed anchor at one in the afternoon, and set sail, with a light breeze from the west, for the river St. Lucia, on the coast of Natal; but misfortune still seemed to attend them. For twenty-five days they met with nothing but adversity; their provisions were almost exhausted, and the rapid currents carried them so far out of their course, that a favorable wind was of but little service to them. Despairing at last of being able to make the river St. Lucia, they resolved to change their course for the Cape of Good Hope, and accordingly, on the 2d of March, bore away for the west.

The three following days the wind increased to such prodigious violence that it blew a furious storm, and their frail bark shipped such heavy seas, that they expected each wave, as it rolled over, to dash her in pieces. On the morning of the 5th, however, fine weather ensued, and on the 7th it was a perfect calm, when they cast anchor about three quarters of a mile from the shore, where they observed several natives coming down from the mountains towards them.

Encouraged by this sight, they attempted to land, and Arnold, the black servant, was sent on shore, accompanied by two seamen, with a string of amber beads as a present to the Indians. After a mutual interchange of civilities, he obtained some Indian corn, fruit, and water, in a calabash, with a promise of sheep, oxen, and other necessaries; but the wind continuing westerly, the boat returned with a supply only sufficient for four days.

They continued to coast along, occasionally landing to barter with the natives, who everywhere thronged to the shore and received them with kindness. At length, on the 6th April, they arrived at St. Lucia.

Having landed, they signified to the natives their wish to trade with them; but the Indians intimated that they wanted nothing but small beads: however, on being shown some copper buttons, they brought bullocks, fowls, potatoes, gourds, and other provisions. No bullocks could be purchased; for the natives wanted copper rings large enough for collars, in exchange. Of the fowls, they gave five or six for a small piece of linen, and the other things in proportion.

They remained here three weeks, being engaged in traversing the country, and endeavoring to obtain such articles as they wanted. The Indians set a great value on copper, and on being shown the handle of an old box, offered two bullocks for it, which were immediately accepted and driven on board the vessel.

On the 18th of May, a favorable breeze springing up from the west, attended with good weather, they weighed anchor at seven in the morning and set sail. Two days afterwards they arrived in Lagoa Bay, where they found the Rose, a trading vessel, in which some of them requested a passage to Bombay.

On the 25th of May, the Rose sailed for Madagascar, where, happening to fall in with one of the East India Company's ships, bound for Madras, the packets of treasure were transferred to it, and in about a month arrived in safety at their destination.

I must now bid you good bye, boys—not that I have exhausted my "Tales of Shipwrecks," but my space being filled up, I must stop for the present. I hope we shall soon meet again. Our present meetings have not, I trust, been without profit as well as amusement. The various narratives of suffering have awakened our sympathies, and taught us to feel how much we owe to the intrepidity of the adventurous seamen, who, bidding defiance to the perils of the deep, bear the blessings of commerce and civilization to the farthest corners of the earth. Nor ought our conversations to have been void of instruction—opening up to us, as they have done, the mighty works of God and his mysterious dealings with mankind. "They that go down to the sea in ships," says the Psalmist, "that do business in great waters—these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heavens, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven. O, that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!"

Good bye, Uncle Thomas!

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Table of Contents

- TALES OF SHIPWRECKS

- CONTENTS.

- CHAPTER I. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN RICHARD FALCONER.

- CHAPTER II. UNCLE THOMAS CONTINUES HIS NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN FALCONER'S ADVENTURES.

- CHAPTER III. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE VRYHEID.

- CHAPTER IV. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE MUTINY OF THE BOUNTY.

- CHAPTER V. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE KENT EAST INDIAMAN.

- CHAPTER VI. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE MEDUSA.

- CHAPTER VII. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE WINTERTON EAST INDIAMAN.

- CHAPTER VIII. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

- CHAPTER IX. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE STEAMERS KILLARNEY AND FORFARSHIRE.

- CHAPTER X. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE ALBION NEW YORK PACKET.

- CHAPTER XI. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS OF THE LOSS OF THE DODDINGTON EAST INDIAMAN.

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE