Thrilling Stories Of The Ocean<br />From Authentic Accounts Of Modern Voyagers And Travellers; Desig, Marmaduke Park [recommended ebook reader .txt] 📗

The ship Essex, Captain George Pollard, sailed from Nantucket, on the 12th of August, 1819, on a whaling voyage to the Pacific Ocean. Her crew consisted of twenty-one men, fourteen of whom were whites, mostly [pg 196] belonging to Nantucket, the remainder were blacks. On the 20th of November, 1820, in latitude 0° 40' S. longitude 119° W. a school of whales was discovered, and in pursuing them the mate's boat was stove, which obliged him to return to the ship, when they commenced repairing the damage. The captain and second mate were left with their boats pursuing the whales. During this interval the mate discovered a large spermaceti whale, near the ship, but, not suspecting the approach of any danger, it gave them no alarm, until they saw the whale coming with full speed towards them. In a moment they were astonished by a tremendous crash. The whale had struck the ship a little forward of the fore chains. It was some minutes before the crew recovered from their astonishment, so far as to examine whether any damage had been sustained. They then tried their pumps, and found that the ship was sinking. A signal was immediately set for the boats. The whale now [pg 197] appeared again making for the ship, and coming with great velocity, with the water foaming around him, he struck the ship a second blow, which nearly stove in her bows. There was now no hope of saving the ship, and the only course to be pursued was, to prepare to leave her with all possible haste. They collected a few things, hove them into the boat and shoved off. The ship immediately fell upon one side and sunk to the water's edge. When the captain's and second mate's boat arrived, such was the consternation, that for some time not a word was spoken. The danger of their situation at length aroused them, as from a terrific dream, to a no less terrific reality. They remained by the wreck two or three days, in which time they cut away the masts, which caused her to right a little. Holes were then cut in the deck, by which means they obtained about six hundred pounds of bread, and as much water as they could take, besides other articles likely to be of use to them. On the 22d of November, they left the ship, with as gloomy a prospect before them as can well be imagined. The nearest land was about one thousand [pg 198] miles to the windward of them; they were in open boats, weak and leaky, with a very small pittance of bread and water for support of so many men, during the time they must necessarily be at sea. Sails had been prepared for the boats, before leaving the ship, which proved of material benefit. Steering southerly by the wind, they hoped to fall in with some ship, but in this they were disappointed. After being in the boat twenty-eight days, experiencing many sufferings by gales of wind, want of water, and scanty provisions, they arrived at Duncie's Island, latitude 24° 40' S., longitude 124° 40' W., where they were disappointed in not finding a sufficiency of any kind of food for so large a company to subsist on. Their boats being very weak and leaky, they were hauled on shore and repaired. They found a gentle spring of fresh water, flowing out of a rock, at about half ebb of the tide, from which they filled their kegs. Three of the men chose to stay on the island, and take their chance for some vessel to take them off.

On the 27th of December, they left this island, and steered for Easter Island; but passed it far to the leeward. They then directed their course for Juan Fernandez, which was about twenty-five hundred miles east by south-east from them. On the 10th of January, 1821, Matthew P. Joy, the second mate, died, and his body was launched into the deep. His constitution was slender, and it was supposed that his sufferings, though great, were not the immediate cause of his death. On the 12th, the mate's boat separated from the other two, and did not fall in with them afterwards. The situation of the mate and his crew, became daily more and more distressing. The weather was mostly calm, the sun hot and scorching. They were growing weaker and weaker by want of food, and yet, such was their distance from land, that they were obliged to lessen their allowance nearly one half. On the 20th, a black man died.

On the 28th, they found, on calculation, that their allowance, only one and a half ounce of bread per day to a man, would be exhausted in fourteen days; and that this allowance was not sufficient to sustain life. They therefore determined to extend the indulgence, and take the consequence, whether to live or die. On the 8th of February, another of the crew died. From this time to the 17th, their sufferings were extreme. At seven o'clock, A.M. of that day, they were aroused from a lethargy by the cheering cry of the steersman, "there's a sail!" The boat was soon descried by the vessel, the brig Indian, Captain Grozier, of London, which took them on board, latitude 33° 45' S., longitude 81° 3' W. They were treated by Captain Grozier with all the care and tenderness which their weak condition required. On the same day they made Massafuero, and on the 25th, arrived at Valparaiso.

Captain Pollard and Charles Ramsdell, the only survivors in the captain's boat, were taken up on the 23d of February, 1821, by the ship Dauphin, of Nantucket, Captain Zimri Coffin, in latitude 37° S. off St. Mary's. The captain relates, that, after the mate's boat was separated from the others, they made what progress their weak condition would permit, towards the island of Juan Fernandez, but contrary winds and calm weather, together with the extreme debility of the crew, prevented their making much progress.

On the 29th of January, the second mate's boat separated from the captain's, in the night, at which time their provisions were totally exhausted, since which they have not been heard from.

We shall not attempt a sketch of the sufferings of the crews of these boats. Imagination may picture the horrors of their situation, and the extremes to which they were driven to sustain life, but no power of the imagination can heighten the dreadful reality.

The following is an account of the whole crew.

In the captain's boat but two survived, Captain Pollard and Charles Ramsdell. In the mate's boat three survived, Owen Chase, the mate, Benjamin Lawrence, and Thomas Nickerson. Left on Duncie's Island, and afterwards taken off, Seth Weeks, William Wright, and Thomas Chapple. One left the ship before the accident. In the second mate's boat, when separated from the captain's, three. Dead, nine, which added to the second mate's crew, doubtless lost, makes total deaths twelve.

[pg 203]

LOSS OF THE WELLINGTON.

We sailed from the Cove of Cork for St. Andrews, on the 6th of October, 1833. During a passage of sixty days, all of which time we struggled against adverse winds, nothing material occurred, save the shifting of our ballast, (limestone,) which caused some alarm; but the promptitude [pg 204] and alacrity of the crew soon set it all right. On reaching the ballast-ground, we discharged our ballast; and after we had repaired the rigging, we took in a cargo of deals. Here four of the men left us,