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Pitcairn Sea Tales -- 5
"She soon struck on some unseen rocks . . ."
--from Mutiny of the Bounty and Pitcairn Island by
Rosalind Amelia Young
Toward the close of January, 1875, the Liverpool ship Cornwallis,
of the firm of Balfour, Williamson & Co., homeward bound from
San Francisco, came in sight of Pitcairn Island. The captain in
his boyhood had read the story of the mutineers of the Bounty
and their subsequent settlment of the isolated rock, and decided
that he would make a call at the place where, just eighty-five years
before, Christian and his guilty party had landed. Taking with him
his apprentices, they left the ship in charge of the first officer,
and came ashore in their own boat, accompanied by some of the island
men who had gone off to the ship.
But a very short time had elapsed after they landed when the
ship was observed to be losing her ground, and, as if impelled
by some unseen power, she drifted shoreward, coming on swiftly
and surely to destruction. The people on shore watched with
breathless anxiety and terror the doomed ship, and earnest but
unavailing prayers went up that the fearful catastrophe might
be averted.
The poor captain, half frantic, rushed with his young men and
all the island men that were within call, to the landing place,
to launch the boat and put off to the vessel, that was every moment
nearing the rocks. But no effort could save her, and she soon struck
on some unseen rocks a few feet from the shore. Had there been ten
minutes more time, she would have been saved, as the water clear
to the shore is very deep, and a few minutes more would have sufficed
to steer the ship clear of danger.
A few of the islanders that had remained on the ship when
the boat first went off, terrified beyond control at the approaching
shipwreck, now hastily got into their boat and started for the
shore. Meeting the captains boat returning, they also
went back to where the ship now lay, a helpless wreck. The excitement
that prevailed was great, and soon everybody was near the scene
of the disaster. The other men who had been engaged about their
several duties when the disaster took place, now returned from
the fields, and, seeing what had happened, were quickly on the
rocks near where the ship lay. Swimming off to the vessel, they
were soon engaged with the others who had been before them in
rendering what assistance they were able, and in a short time
after the ship struck, all the crew had been safely landed.
Little else was saved. The mate wished to make a return trip to
the vessel in spite of the wind, that was now increasing into a
gale, and at the cry, Who will volunteer? a ready response
was given, but the darkness coming on, and the threatening weather,
made it advisable to delay the effort until the next morning. The
boat was once more drawn up to a place of safety, and in the gloomy
darkness, with feelings still more gloomy, the captain and the crew
of the Cornwallis accompanied by the islanders, men, women,
and children, formed a silent procession up the steep hill path
that led to the village.
All that could be done for the strangers thus unexpectedly
thrown amongst them was done as well as their limited means
afforded, and everyone willingly gave up sleeping rooms to the
shipwrecked men during their enforced stay, being content that
their unexpected guests should enjoy whatever could be provided
for their comfort.
The chief anxiety experienced was how to find enough to feed
their guests should their stay be a long one, for this addition
to their numbers was confessedly a tax upon them in the matter
of food supplies, the islanders themselves being obliged to
be careful in the use of what they had, as the island had not
yet recovered from the effects of the long-continued drought
of the previous years.
Not a thing was saved from the ship. The heavy seas rolled
over the poor vessel during the night, and by morning the gale
had increased to such fury that it was hopeless to attempt a
return to the ship, each oncoming wave threatening to overturn
it or break it in pieces. The deepest sympathy was felt for
the distressed captain and his company of officers and men,
but nothing could be done to alleviate the misery of their condition.
On the second day after the ship had become a wreck, she turned
over and broke up by the violence of the waves. The sea around
was strewn with wreckage, which floated away to leeward. The
ships lifeboat, uninjured, was among the things that were
scattered from the ship on breaking up, and in the hope of rescuing
it a crew of the islanders started to launch the captains
gig. With brave hearts and strong arms they waited for a moments
lull in the angry waves to give them an opportunity of getting
safely over the dreadful surf that rolled ceaselessly in to
shore. At last the moment came, and at the command, Pull
ahead, with a strength that seemed more than human, the
boat was got beyond the danger of the breakers, that threatened
to engulf her. In due time the lifeboat was reached. Being full
of water, each man took turns to bail the boat. Wind and tide
being both against them, the work was exceedingly heavy, but
courageous hearts and willing hands insured success, and after
several hours hard battling with the sea, the gig and
lifeboat were both landed in safety.
A sad accident occurred a short while the men were engaged in
rescuing the boat. A boy twelve years of age had, with some of his
companions, gone down to the rocks near which the ship was wrecked,
to get something that floated ashore. In attempting to reach his
object, he was suddenly struck down by a heavy sea, and washed off
into the boiling waters. The only aid that could be rendered was
by means of a rope thrown to him, but before it could be brought
the poor boy had sunk, bruised and killed by the wreckage that was
tossing around. The poor, distracted mother witnessed the fearful
scene, and in her agonizing grief made her way to the place where
her boy was taken off, and would have thrown herself into the sea,
as if such a sacrifice could avail to save her boy, but the arms
of strong men who had followed held her back, and she was carried
with great difficulty and in an unconscious state up the rocky steep
to her home, where pitying friends received her and attended her
through the long, dreary months of illness that followed. The father
was not present when the accident took place, so word was sent to
him where he was at work. He was with difficulty restrained from
casting himself into the angry sea in the remot hope of finding
the body of his son, but at length submitted to be led home; nor
was the body every seen again, although a search was kept up for
several days.
The American ship Dauntless had come in during the day,
and Captain Wilbur waited until next morning, when, on learning
what had taken place, he kindly offered to take the whole crew of
the Cornwallis on his ship, and give them a passage to New
York, whither he was bound. The ship was wrecked on Saturday, and
by Tuesday noon all her crew had left, leaving only the poor remains
of the good ship to remind the people of the sad occurrence.
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