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A Whale biting a Boat in two.

THE
ARCTIC
WHALEMAN;

OR,

WINTER IN THE ARCTIC OCEAN:

BEING
A NARRATIVE OF THE
WRECK OF THE WHALE SHIP CITIZEN,
OF NEW BEDFORD, IN THE ARCTIC OCEAN, LAT. 68° 10' N.,
LON. 180° W., SEPT. 25, 1852, COMMANDED BY THOMAS HOWES
NORTON, OF EDGARTOWN, AND THE SUBSEQUENT
SUFFERINGS OF HER OFFICERS AND CREW
DURING NINE MONTHS AMONG
THE NATIVES.

TOGETHER WITH

A BRIEF HISTORY OF WHALING.

BY
REV. LEWIS HOLMES.

BOSTON:
WENTWORTH & COMPANY,
86 Washington Street.
1857.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by
Wentworth & Company,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

STEREOTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.

TO
WHALEMEN,
IN WHOSE EMPLOYMENT, DARING ADVENTURES,
AND MANY DEPRIVATIONS,
THE AUTHOR FEELS A DEEP INTEREST,
This Volume
IS MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED.

[PREFACE.]

Of all classes of fishermen, the whaleman takes the precedence. This front position will be readily conceded to him, whether we consider the stupendous object of his pursuit, or the vast extent of waters over which he roams to secure his prey, or the dangers and perils peculiar to his avocation, or the immense pecuniary outlay with which the enterprise is carried on.

Some of the reasons which induced the author to present to the public this narrative containing an account of the wreck of the whale ship Citizen, and the subsequent exposure and sufferings of her officers and crew in the Arctic Ocean, are the following:—

1. The instance has never been recorded in the history of marine disaster, in which a ship's company, consisting of thirty-three persons, lived so many months among the natives in so high a latitude. 2. Being cast helpless and almost destitute upon such a desolate coast, they had to depend principally upon the kindness and generosity of the natives for protection, food, and clothing. 3. Considering the unfavorable and forbidding circumstances of their condition, in living as the natives lived, and their travels in the depths of winter from one settlement to another in order to avoid starvation, it is remarkable that so many of them, with so little sickness, should be rescued the following year.

A plain statement of these facts the author felt was due to his fellow-townsmen, and would probably be of some considerable interest to all classes of readers, and therefore meriting a permanent record with the varied experience of whalemen.

The limited time the author spent with Captain Norton,[A] who was then preparing for sea, from whom he received the leading facts in the narrative, after it was concluded to give it to the public, is his only apology for not introducing more extended particulars.

Mr. Abram Osborn, Jr.,[B] Mr. John P. Fisher,[C] and Mr. John W. Norton,[D] now absent at sea, confirmed the report of the captain, besides having contributed important materials to the narrative themselves.

Any information respecting the physical features of the arctic region, and the character of its inhabitants, is not only deeply interesting, but highly useful. The recent explorations of Dr. Kane, in the American Arctic, has largely increased the bounds of knowledge respecting that remarkable portion of the earth's surface.

Though less attention, perhaps, has been given to the exploration of the Asiatic Arctic, through Behring's Straits, it is, however, a region which is yearly visited by scores of American whalemen, and who have become quite familiar both with its eastern and western coasts, even to the impassable ice barrier, which forbids all further approaches to the north.

The acquaintance which the officers and crew of the Citizen formed with the natives during the space of nine months in which they lived with them, and thus had so favorable an opportunity to learn their characters and habits, has probably never been surpassed by any other company of men within the present century.

The History of Whaling will give the reader a succinct view of the commencement, progress, and present state of the enterprise. The author would here express his acknowledgments to whalemen who have readily furnished him with many valuable incidents connected with the details of their employment.

L. H.

Edgartown, June, 1857.

[ILLUSTRATIONS.]

1.A WHALE BITING A BOAT IN TWO,[Frontispiece.]
2.WALRUS AMONG ICEBERGS,[47]
3.WRECK OF THE CITIZEN,[63]
4.NATIVE COSTUME,[85]
5.HUNTING THE POLAR BEAR,[105]
6.POLAR BEARS,[125]
7.A SHIP AFTER A GALE,[147]
8.WHALES RAISED,[169]
9.LOWERING FOR WHALES,[189]
10.TWO SHIPS NEAR SHORE,[205]
11.PERILOUS SITUATION OF WHALEMEN,[239]
12.ENEMIES OF THE WHALE,[257]
13.HARPOONING A WHALE,[269]
14.CUTTING IN A WHALE,[277]
15.BOILING OUT,[289]

[CONTENTS.]

[CHAPTER I.]
Ship Citizen sails from New Bedford.—Captain, Officers, and Crew.—Interest centred in a Whale Ship.—Accompanying Ships.—Seasickness and Homesickness.—Arrival at Cape Verd Islands.—An Agreement with Captain Sands, of the Ship Benjamin Tucker.—Whales raised.—Christmas Supper on board of the Citizen.—A Whale Scene.—"An ugly Customer."—A Whale Incident, copied from the Vineyard Gazette.—Arrival at Hilo.—Sandwich Islands[25]
[CHAPTER II.]
Recruited for the Arctic.—Departure.—Coast of Kamtschatka.—Copper Island.—Going into the Ice with Captain Crosby.—Gale of Wind.—Dangerous Sailing in the Ice.—Captain Thaddeus.—Bay of the Holy Cross.—Plover Bay.—Dead Whale.—St. Lawrence Bay.—Whales working north.—Loose, floating Ice.—Ice covered with Walrus.—Fine Weather.—Striking an Iceberg.—Ship leaking.—Return to St. Lawrence Bay.—Damage repaired.—Arrival in the Arctic[43]
[CHAPTER III.]
Northern Lights.—High Winds.—Spoke with Captain Clough.—Ships seen in the Distance.—Storm increasing.—No Observations.—Blowing heavily.—Scene awfully sublime.—Ship struck by a Sea.—Shoal Water.—Rocks and Breakers.—Ship unmanageable.—Fore and mizzen Topsails carried away.—Ship striking astern, bow, and midships.—Foremast cut away.—Narrow Escape of Captain Norton.—Mizzenmast gone by the Board.—Sad Condition of the Seamen.—Land in Sight—Ship drifting towards the Shore.—Undertow.—The Lantern Keg.—Mainmast cut away, and falling towards the Shore.—Men escaping on the Mast.—Trying Scene.—Captain washed ashore.—Affecting Deaths.—Wreck piled up on Shore.—Fire made.—Men perishing with Cold.—Five missing.—Prospects dark.—Destitution.—Tent erected.—Merciful Circumstances connected with the Wreck[53]
[CHAPTER IV.]
First Night on Shore.—Sleeping in empty Casks.—Parties of Exploration.—Dog Tracks.—Arrangements to leave the Wreck.—Desire to reach East Cape.—Reflections upon our Condition.—The dead Hog roasted.—The "pet Hog."—Company travel towards the South and East.—Two Natives seen.—Parley.—Directed to the Settlement.—The old Woman and her Ceremony.—The second Settlement.—Head Man cordial.—Men distributed among the Huts.—Not able to reach East Cape.—Company entertained.—Motives for it.—Government should reward the Natives[72]
[CHAPTER V.]
No Prospect of reaching East Cape.—Painful Conviction.—The Province of Christian Faith.—The Wreck visited.—The Natives.—Hope unexpectedly revived.—Ship in Sight.—Comes near.—Signals from the Land.—No Assistance offered.—Sails down the Coast.—Indescribable State of our Minds.—Card in The Polynesian[90]
[CHAPTER VI.]
Our sad and desolate Feelings after the Departure of the Ship.—What we should soon witness of Arctic Winter.—The Wreck visited from Time to Time.—Provisions transported to the Settlement.—The Weather.—Whales near Shore.—Severe Gale of Wind.—Fall of Snow.—Ocean frozen over.—Sudden Introduction of Winter, and its Dreariness.—Not to be described.—The Sun falling, Nights lengthening.—Disappearance of the Sun.—Long Night.—How we passed our Time.—Confined to the Huts.—Singing.—Neither Book nor Chart, nor Writing Materials, except Pieces of Copper.—Hope of Liberation another Year.—Captain Norton's Method of keeping Time.—The Razor.—Our Clothing.—Provisions getting low.—Natives both eating and stealing ours.—A new Chapter.—Commenced living on Blubber with the Natives.—Native Stock diminishing.—Winters in the Arctic vary.—The native Manner of capturing the Whale.—Preparing their Food.—Native Bread.—Description of their Huts.—Their peculiar Locality.—Their Method of lighting and warming them.—The Filthiness of the Natives.[108]
[CHAPTER VII.]
Health of the Natives.—Their Diseases.—Captain N. prescribes a Remedy.—Their superstitious Notions.—Mr. Osborn prescribes for the Sick.—A fatal Case.—They surround Mr. O. with threatening Gestures.—Native Remedy for Nose Bleeding and Sore Eyes.—Burial Ceremony.—Marriages.—General Appearance of the Natives.—Their Character.—Their Habits of Industry.—Property.—Language.—Icebergs.—Their Formation.—The Distance to which Icebergs float.—Their Magnitude.—Field Ice.—The sudden Disappearance of Ice.—How accounted for.—Icy Vapor.—Poisoning.[127]
[CHAPTER VIII.]
Provisions of the Natives getting low.—New Calamity threatened.—Health and Strength failing.—Necessity of seeking other Quarters.—The only Alternative.—Report of a Wreck.—Parties leave.—Dreadful Traveling and Exposures.—Report by the Natives that our Men were frozen to Death.—An Instance of Treachery.—The Captain and his Party leave.—The Weather.—Traveling.—Thoughts of Home.—Preservation.—One of the Party unable to walk.—Left behind.—Found by the Natives.—The Fate before us.—Division of the Biscuit.—Another fails, sits down, and is frozen to Death.—Reflections.—Captain Norton encourages his only remaining Companion.—Singular Appearance upon the Ice.—Dog Teams.—Part of Mr. Fisher's Company.—Encouragement to our Minds.—Natives unwilling to help us.—The Danger of Riding.—Last Effort.—The Music of Barking Dogs.—Our Manner of Traveling.—Dreadful Condition of our Feet.—Captain Norton falls exhausted.—Native Kindness.[149]
[CHAPTER IX.]
Mr. Fisher's Party a short Distance from this Settlement.—Next Day left for another Settlement.—Our Men arriving in small Companies.—Health improving.—Cross the River.—No Signs of Water.—Settlement.—Ham.—The Wreck of a New Bedford Ship.—When lost, and the Circumstances.—Travel to another Settlement.—The head Man a savage Fellow.—Traveling towards East Cape.—Seaboard Route.—Natives kind.—Begging by the Way.—The Whale Boat.—The Broadside of a Ship.—Ship in the Ice.—Drift Stuff.—Sun's Reflection.—Sore Eyes.—Snow Blindness.—The Blind led with Strings.—Partial Remedy.—East Cape reached.—Cordially received by the Natives.[169]
[CHAPTER X.]
East Cape, a Point of Observation.—The greater Part of our Men gathered here.—The Kanaka.—Weather softening.—Ice still firm.—Arctic Scenes.—Icequakes.—Migratory Fowl.—A Whale discovered.—Gala Time among the Natives.—The Natives thorough Drinkers.—A drunken "Spree."—Cruise into the Country.—Birds-egging.—Incidents.—Native Manner of killing Fowl.—Amusements of the Natives.—Vegetation.—Face of the Country.—Fish.—Fowl.—The Ochotsk Sea and Country.[179]
[CHAPTER XI.]
The Ocean still frozen over on the 22d of June.—On the 24th the Ice began to break up.—Whales appear.—Walrus follow the Ice.—Daily looking for Ships.—Report of our Wreck five hundred Miles below East Cape.—Method of sending News by the Natives.—Ships notified of our Condition.—How.—The Resolution of Captains Jernegan and Goosman.—Arrival of two Ships off East Cape.—Natives first spy them.—Stir in the Settlement.—Happy Day of Deliverance.—Words feeble to express our Joy.—A fit Occasion for Gratitude and Thanks to God.—Preparations to go on board.—The Welcome of Captain Goosman.—Captain Norton with Captain Jernegan.—Crew collected.—Changed our native for sailor Dress.—Liberality of the Officers and Crews in furnishing Clothes.—A Review of the Past.—The Settlement visited.—Dinner.—Arrival at the Islands.—A Card.[197]
[CHAPTER XII.]
A Whaling Community.—Interest felt for absent Ones.—The first Intelligence from the Whaling Fleet.—California Mail.—Further News from the Islands.—"Missing Ships."—No Report of the Citizen.—No Letters.—Fears as to her Safety.—When last spoken with.—Either lost or frozen up in the Arctic.—Supposed Fate of Officers and Crew.—Distressing Suspense.—Hoping against Hope.—Prayer answered.—The first Intelligence from the Citizen.—Joy in Families.—Captain Norton's Arrival at Home, and subsequently the Arrival of his Officers belonging to this Place.[214]
[CHAPTER XIII.]
The Ocean.—The Seaman's Home.—Confidence of the Mariner in his Ship.—Shipwreck.—Moral and religious Claims of Seamen.—The Spirit of the Age.—Interest in the Mariner's Meeting.—Seaport Places.—Sudden Intelligence.—Seamen remembered elsewhere.—Ships supplied with Books.—Bible and Tract Societies.—Good Seed sown.—Field for Usefulness.—The American Seaman.—Concert of Prayer.—All interested.—The most important Reform for Seamen.[226]

*****

[HISTORY AND DETAILS OF WHALING.]
[CHAPTER I.]
Whale Fishery.—Its Origin.—Where first carried on.—By whom.—Whaling in the Northern Ocean by the Dutch and English.—Contentions between them.—The Success of the Dutch.—Its Commencement in New England.—"London Documents."—The first Whale Scene in Nantucket.—Boat Whaling.—The Number of Whales taken in one Day.—The first Spermaceti Whale.—The Interest it excited.—Its supposed Value.—The first Sperm Whale captured.—New Life to the Business.—Whaling in Massachusetts in 1771–75.—Burke's Eulogy on New England Whalers.—Sperm Whaling in Great Britain.—Revived in France.—The American and French Revolutions nearly destroyed the Business.—Loss to Nantucket.—Its Commencement in New Bedford.—Tabular View of the Number of Vessels engaged in Whaling, and Places to which they belong.[241]
[CHAPTER II.]
The Whale.—Its Zoölogy.—The largest known Animal.—Sperm Whale.—Right Whale.—Finback.—Bowhead.[250]
[CHAPTER III.]
Whale Blubber.—Enemies of the Whale.—Affection of the Whale for its Young.—Instances.[256]
[CHAPTER IV.]
Whale Grounds.—Whaling Seasons, and where Species of Whales are found.—Sperm Whale Grounds.—Right Whale Grounds.—Humpbacks and Bowheads, where found.—Right Whale not crossing the Equator.—Arctic Passage for Whales.—Maury's Opinion of the Haunts of the Whale in the Polar Sea.—Confirmed by Dr. Kane.—Vessels fitted for Whaling.—Several Classes.—Time of Sailing.—Arrival at Home.—Length of Voyages.—Seasons and between Seasons.[262]
[CHAPTER V.]
Increased Length of Whaling Voyages.—Capital.—Value of Oils and Bone.—Value of several Classes of Whaling Vessels.—"Lay."—Boat's Crew.—Whaleboats.—Approaching a Whale.—Harpooning.—Whale Warp.—Danger when the Line runs out.—Locomotive Power of the Whale.—Lancing.—Flurry.—Cutting in.—Boiling out.—The "Case and Junk."—The Rapidity with which Oil may be taken.[268]
[CHAPTER VI.]
Outfitting and Infitting.—"Runners."—Remedy.—Articles of Clothing.—Whaling Business.—Promotion.—Whale Killing.—Dangers.—General Success of the Enterprise.[276]
[CHAPTER VII.]
The Manufacture of Oil.[288]

[INTRODUCTION.]

A father once said to his son, respecting books, "Read first the introduction; if that be good, try a few pages of the volume; if they are excellent, then, but not else, read on." But I do not wish this criterion to be applied in the present instance. For if the reader find the introduction uninteresting, he will be compensated by a careful perusal of the narrative itself. It may be relied on as stating matters of fact. The information it contains respecting the adventurous and exciting business of the whale fishery is derived from authentic sources. The volume presents matters of deep and general interest to every reader. It will remind him of some of the scenes so vividly portrayed by the late Dr. Kane in his arctic explorations.

Many "that go down to the sea in ships, and do business in the great waters," come from remote parts of the country. Here is the information which will convey to relatives at home some just idea of the toils and privations of those loved ones who are ploughing the trackless ocean. The young men, who are looking forward to a life on the ocean wave, will read the following narrative with eagerness and delight. Their ardent temperament and roving disposition have pictured in fancy's halls bright scenes on the briny deep. Such will find in this work a true view of a mariner's life, accompanied with valuable counsels.

It is neither, as I judge, the tendency nor the design of the book, to deter any from a seafaring life that love adventure, and believe there is no royal road to fortune. To employ a nautical phrase, "None need expect to creep in by the cabin windows; all must crawl through the hawser hole." He must endure hardship and privation before he can enjoy promotion. Young men of sound health, steady purpose, moral courage, and trustworthiness, will, by the blessing of Providence, be sure of promotion. If, however, these qualities are lacking in a young man, the discovery is generally made during his first voyage. His reputation, good or bad, will reach home long before the ship returns to port. Owners and agents know what is in him, and what may be expected from him in future. If he stands the test, if he is faithful and prompt in the discharge of duty, all who have an interest in the success of voyages will want his services.

This book gives valuable information to parents whose sons are inclined to go to sea. Resistance should not be carried to such a degree as to drive the young man to expedients in order to get away from home clandestinely. This course always throws him into the hands, and places him under the power, of those who have no ultimate object but to make all possible profit out of his toil. Many young men, in consequence of obstacles thrown in their way, never divulge at home their longing desire to try the sea. Hence, some, who are physically unfit to bear the fatigue, have taken their first step by running off to some seaport; and after being involved in expense, although they may have changed their mind, they cannot retrace their steps. Once shipped, they will have one life-long regret. Let parents do all they possibly can to render their would-be sailor sons independent of the "landsharks."

Clergymen and Sabbath school teachers are in a position to know something of the tendencies and aptitudes of their respective charges. They may, by availing themselves of the contents of this volume, prevent many mistakes and unavailing regrets. The object to be sought is, to secure those who will go to sea from doing so under false apprehensions of the kind of life, and the essential qualifications for success in the sailor's avocation.

Seamen are in demand, and if commerce continues to extend, many more able-bodied sailors will be required to man our ships. When the extent and value of the interests involved are thought of, it seems surprising that efforts are not made to improve the character and condition of the sailor. Millions of property are intrusted to his care. Thousands of precious lives are in his hands for weeks and months; yet many sailors are the refuse of jails, penitentiaries, and state prisons. The sentiment too often prevails that the worse man makes the better sailor. Hence we may easily account for many shipwrecks, vessels cast away, sunk, and burned. This is becoming too expensive. As total abstinence on board ship has reduced the rates of insurance, so will greater security to life and property be experienced at sea, when more attention shall be paid to the character and condition of sailors. The profit may be proportionally divided between the owners and the crew.

Combined and earnest efforts should be made by parties, especially by those more immediately concerned. A beginning must be made somewhere. Individual effort has done something, but these attempts are limited by others who have it in their power to hinder the operation of beneficial changes. Difficulties can be overcome effectually when all combine to remove them. The temporal and spiritual welfare of so many thousands of our fellow-men afloat on the great deep demand much at our hands.

The moral and religious element must lie at the foundation of all physical and social reforms. When, therefore, owners, captains, agents, officers, and crews will agree not to lower their boats, even if a fish is seen, on Sabbath, an important step will be taken in the right direction. For while all are systematically violating the law of God, there can be no law on board ship but brute force. Why should any one feel at liberty to prosecute his daily employment at sea, when he would be ashamed to do so on land? Is the sailor less dependent on the blessing of a gracious God than the husbandman? He is a very godless farmer who will plough or sow on Sabbath because it rained on Saturday, or may rain on Monday. The difficulties are not insuperable. Meet them at the outset. The responsibility must not be wholly devolved on the captain, to do what he thinks best after he has gone to sea. Let the owners distinctly and unequivocally express their will in the case. Then captain, officers, and crew will be shipped with this stipulation: No fishing on Sabbath.

Many captains and others now engaged in the whaling fleet will welcome such an arrangement. The effect of it on the whole ship's company will be salutary. As the business is now conducted, there are doubtless many uneasy consciences. Some are glad when no fish is seen on Sabbath. But when the cry is raised, "There she blows!" what a struggle takes place in the mind of the pious and God-fearing men! But the rest think, if the boats are not lowered, that their rights and interests are infringed; and even the owners might afterwards complain that, when fish were seen, they were not taken. So the order is given, "Lower away the boats." But this does not settle the question, for the captain feels his moral power diminished. He cannot next day with a clear conscience read and pray with his officers, nor call all hands together next Sabbath to hear the word of God read.

Thus nearly all that is done for the moral improvement of sailors in port is neutralized by one act of disobedience to God.

In New Bedford, something is attempted for the good of the sailor. "The Sailor's Home" is well conducted. The Port Society sustains the Bethel and its indefatigable minister. All the Bibles needed for the ships come from the New Bedford Bible Society. But something further is required to induce habits of Bible reading on board ship. Let owners and others think of some of the hints given above.

If this volume, now presented to the public, containing a narrative of so much interest, will improve the condition of the weather-beaten sailor, and promote the honor of God, our desire is accomplished.

J. Girdwood.

New Bedford, Mass., June, 1857.

The Polar Bear.

[THE WHALEMAN;]
OR,
NINE MONTHS IN THE ARCTIC.

[CHAPTER I.]

Ship Citizen sails from New Bedford.—Captain, Officers, and Crew.—Interest centred in a Whale Ship.—Accompanying Ships.—Seasickness and Homesickness.—Arrival at Cape Verd Islands.—An Agreement with Captain Sands, of the Ship Benjamin Tucker.—Whales raised.—Christmas Supper on board of the Citizen.—A Whale Scene.—"An ugly Customer."—A Whale Incident, copied from the Vineyard Gazette.—Arrival at Hilo.—Sandwich Islands.

The whale ship Citizen, of New Bedford, owned by J. Howland & Co., fitted for three or four years, and bound to the North Pacific on a whaling voyage, sailed from the port of New Bedford, October 29, 1851. She was commanded by Thomas Howes Norton, of Edgartown, Martha's Vineyard.

Her officers were the following, namely: first mate, Lewis H. Roey, of New Bedford; second mate, John P. Fisher, of Edgartown; third mate, Walter Smith, of New Bedford; fourth mate, William Collins, of New Bedford. Four boat steerers, namely: Abram Osborn, Jr., and John W. Norton, of Edgartown, John Blackadore and James W. Wentworth, of New Bedford.

The following were nearly all the names of her crew: Charles T. Heath, William E. Smith, Christopher Simmons, George W. Borth, Darius Aping, William Nye, Manuel Jose, Jose Joahim, Charles C. Dyer, Charles Noyes, Edmund Clifford, George Long, Charles Adams, Bernard Mitchell, Nicholas Powers, William H. May, Alpheus Townshend, Barney R. Kehoe, Joseph E. Mears, James Dougherty, and Peter M. Cox. The whole number on board when she sailed was thirty-three persons. In addition to the above, five seamen were shipped at the Verd Islands, which made thirty-eight, all told.

As is generally the case, the majority of these were strangers, and perhaps had never seen each other's countenances until they appeared on the deck of the ship, henceforth to be their new home for months, and it may be for years.

Besides, in this number there were representatives from different and distant sections of the country, and not unfrequently an assortment of nations, and even races.

Here were gathered for the first time many a wandering youth, attracted to the seaboard by the spirit of romantic adventure, to see the world of waters, and to share in the excitement of new scenes. His wayward history, in breaking away from the wholesome restraints and watchcare of home, may be found written, perhaps, in many sorrowful hearts which he has left behind. Years may pass away before either parents or relatives shall hear again from the absent one, and it may be never. Such instances are not uncommon.

How much interest there is centred in a whale ship, as she is about to leave port! It is felt not only by those who embark their property and lives in her, but there are other attractions towards the ship. They are found in the desolateness which is felt in many home circles, in bidding adieu to husbands, sons, and brothers. When the anchor is weighed, and the sails are spread to the faithful breeze, sadness reigns in many households and in many hearts. The thoughts are not only painfully busy concerning present separations, but they bound forward to the future, and anticipate what may be the experience of a few years to come. Changes! one hardly dares think of them! Amid the perils and dangers of the deep, how long will the ship's company remain unbroken? Will the ship ever return, and reënter her port again? Will those who have just released themselves from the embraces of friends, and wiped away the falling tear, and barred their hearts to the separation, will they ever return? or, if they should, will they ever see again those whom they are now leaving? These inquiries and reflections find expression only in painful emotions, sadness, and sorrow. Time will make changes, and leave its ineffaceable footprints with every passing year.

The land was lost sight of in the evening of the day upon which we sailed, with a strong south-west wind. We were accompanied out of the bay by two other outward bound whale ships—the Columbus, of Fairhaven, Captain Crowell, and the Hunter, of New Bedford, Captain Holt.

After the usual passage, with variable winds, and no particular incident of marked importance, except the ordinary and certain amount of seasickness on board, which generally attends the uninitiated in their first interviews with "old Neptune," Cape Verd Islands were made on the 4th of December.

With seasickness, homesickness follows; and then it is that many of the inexperienced, having left good homes and quiet life, wish a thousand times that they had never "learned the trade." But all such wishes are now in vain. With a new life on shipboard and in the forecastle, romance passes away, and leaves in its place the stern outlines of a living reality. Seasickness, however, is only a temporary affair; in most cases, indeed, it soon subsides, and then spirits and hope revive with recruited and invigorated health.

We took our departure from the islands on the 6th, in company with the ship Benjamin Tucker, Captain Sands; strong breezes, north-east trades. The first whales were seen about lat. 30° S., lon. 31° 41´ W., distant about seven miles—light winds. We set signal for the Benjamin Tucker, four or five miles distant, to notify Captain Sands that whales were in sight—an agreement we made while sailing in company. Boats were lowered; the mate fastened to a whale, which brought the shoal to. The second mate was less successful; his boat was stoven by a whale, and his men were floating about upon scattered and broken pieces of the wreck. Other boats soon came up and rescued their companions. The ship now ran down to the boat which was fastened to the whale. The whale, however, was lost, in consequence of cutting the line in the act of lancing him. After a pursuit of an hour or more, the mate fastened to another whale, and finally secured it, though it proved to be of but little pecuniary value. At the same time the boats of the Benjamin Tucker captured a whale, but they could not boast of much superiority. It made them three barrels. Thus ended the first whaling scene on the voyage, and certainly not a very profitable day's work.

The Citizen was put on her course. We passed several ships—weather good. December 20, lat. 40° S., whales were raised again, but took no oil. Still in company with the Benjamin Tucker. On Christmas Eve, Captain Sands and his wife took tea on board of our ship, thus reviving remembrances of home and friends, though thousands of miles distant from our native port.

The next incident of more than ordinary interest was another whale scene, of sufficient excitement and peril to satisfy the most ardent and aspiring.

The Benjamin Tucker had luffed to, headed to the westward, with signal to the Citizen that whales were in sight. The ship Columbus was then in company. The three ships were in full pursuit of the monsters of the deep. The school was overtaken in course of an hour or two working to the leeward. At first, one of the boats was lowered from the Citizen, and then another, and another, until four boats were bounding over the waves, each seeking to be laid alongside of his victim, and join in the uncertain conflict. From the three ships there were twelve boats pressing forward with the utmost celerity to share in the encounter, and each emulous to bear off his prize. The fourth boat despatched from the Citizen fastened to a whale. He was shortly lanced, and spouted blood—a sure indication that he had received his death wound. In mortal agony, he plunged, and floundered, and mingled the warm current of his own life with the foaming waters around him. Conscious, apparently, of the authors of his sufferings, with rage and madness he at once attacked the boat, and with his ponderous jaws seized it, and in a moment bit it in two in the centre. Nor was there any time to be lost by the humble occupants of the boat. The rules of courtesy and ordinary politeness in entertaining a superior were for the time being laid entirely aside. Each seaman fled for his life—some from the stern, and others from the bow, while the cracking boards around and beneath them convinced them that the whale had every thing in his own way. Besides, the sensation was any thing but pleasant in expecting every moment to become fodder to the enraged leviathan of the deep. In quick succession those enormous jaws fell, accompanied with a deep, hollow moan or groan, which evinced intense pain, that sent a chill of terror to the stoutest hearts. They felt the feebleness of man when the monster arose in his fury and strength. A boat was soon sent to the rescue of their companions, who were swimming in every direction, to avoid contact with the enraged whale, which seemed bent on destroying every thing within his reach. He really asserted his original lordship in his own native element, and was determined to drive out all intruders. He therefore attacked the second boat, and would probably have ground it to atoms, had not a fortunate circumstance of two objects perhaps somewhat disconcerting him, and dividing his attention, turned him off from his purpose.

The captain of the Citizen, observing the affray from the beginning, was soon convinced that matters were taking rather a serious direction, and that not only the boats but the lives of his men were greatly imperilled. He therefore ordered the fifth boat to be instantly lowered, manned with "green hands," the command of which he himself assumed, and directed in pursuit of the whale. Five boats were now engaged in the contest, with the exception of the one stoven, and all the available crew and officers, including the captain, concentrated their efforts and energies in order to capture this "ugly customer." Just at the moment he was attacking or had already attacked the second boat, the captain's boat appeared on the ground, and from some cause best known to himself, the whale immediately left the former and assailed the latter. What the whale had already done, and what he appeared determined still to do, were by no means very flattering antecedents, and would very naturally impress the minds of "green hands," especially, that whaling, after all, was a reality, and not an imaginary affair or ordinary pastime.

On, therefore, the whale came to the captain's boat, ploughing the sea before him, jaws extended, with the fell purpose of destroying whatever he might chance to meet. As he approached near, the lance was thrust into his head and held in that position by the captain, and by this means he was kept at bay, while the boat was driven astern nearly half a mile. In this manner he was prevented from coming any nearer to the boat, the boat moving through the water as fast and as long as he pressed his head against the point of the lance. This was the only means of their defence. It was a most fortunate circumstance in a most trying situation. If the handle of the lance had broken, they would have been at the mercy of a desperate antagonist. The countenances of the boys were pallid with fear, and doubtless the very hair upon their heads stood erect. It was a struggle for life. It was death presented to them under one of the most frightful forms. They were, however, as singularly and as suddenly relieved as they were unexpectedly attacked. The whale caught sight of the ship, as was supposed, which was running down towards the boats, and suddenly started for the new and larger object of attack. This was observed by the captain, who immediately made signal to keep the ship off the wind, which would give her more headway, and thus, if possible, escape a concussion which appeared at first sight inevitable. The whale started on his new course towards the ship with the utmost velocity, with the intention of running into her. The consequences no one could predict; more than likely he would have either greatly disabled the ship, or even sunk her, had he struck her midships. To prevent such a catastrophe—the injury of the ship, and perhaps the ruin of the voyage—every thing now seemed to depend upon the direction of the ship and a favoring wind. Every eye was turned towards the ship; oars were resting over the gunwale of the boats, and each seaman instinctively fixed in his place, while anticipating a new encounter upon a larger scale, the results of which were fearfully problematical. A good and merciful Providence, however, whose traces are easily discernible in the affairs of men both upon the ocean and upon the land, opportunely interfered. The ship was making considerable headway. The whale started on a bee line for the ship, but when he came up with her, in consequence of her increased speed before the wind, he fell short some ten or twelve feet from the stern. The crisis was passed. On he sped his way, dragging half of the boat still attached to the lines connected with the irons that were in his body. His death struggle was long and violent. In about half an hour he went into his "flurry, and turned up." Colors were set for the boats to return to the ship; the dead whale was brought alongside, cut in, boiled out, and seventy-five barrels of sperm oil were stowed away.

We copy the following whale incident from the Vineyard Gazette of October 14, 1853. The editor says,—

"We are indebted to Captain Thomas A. Norton, of this town, one of the early commanders of the whale ship Hector, of New Bedford, for the following interesting particulars relative to an attack upon and final capture of an ugly whale. Captain Norton was chief mate of the Hector at the time.

"'In October, 1832, when in lat. 12° S., lon. 80° W., the ship ninety days from port, we raised a whale. The joyful cry was given of "There she blows!" and every thing on board at once assumed an aspect of busy preparation for the capture. The boats were lowered, and chase commenced. When we got within about three ships' lengths of him, he turned and rushed furiously upon us. He struck us at the same moment we fastened to him. He stove the boat badly; but with the assistance of sails which were placed under her bottom, and constant bailing, she was kept above water. The captain, John O. Morse, came to our assistance. I told him he had better keep clear of the whale; but he said he had a very long lance, and wanted to try it upon the rascal. Captain Morse went up to the whale, when all at once he turned upon the boat, which he took in his mouth, and held it "right up on end," out of the water, and shook it all to pieces in a moment. The men were thrown in every direction, and Captain Morse fell from a height of at least thirty feet into the water. Not being satisfied with the total destruction of the boat, he set to work and "chewed up" the boat kegs and lantern kegs, and whatever fragments of the boat he could find floating on the water. At this stage of the "fight," I told Captain Morse that if he would give me the choice of the ship's company, I would try him again. It was desperate work, to all appearance, and up to this time the vicious fellow had had it all his own way. The captain was in favor of trying him from the ship, but finally consented for us to attack him again from a boat. With a picked crew, we again approached the whale, now lying perfectly still, apparently ready for another attack, as the event proved. Seeing our approach, he darted towards us with his mouth wide open, his ponderous jaws coming together every moment with tremendous energy. We gave the word to "stern all," which was obeyed in good earnest. As we passed the ship, I heard the captain exclaim, "There goes another boat!" She did go, to be sure, through the water with all speed, but fortunately not to destruction. The monster chased us in this way for half a mile or more, during most of which time his jaws were within six or eight inches of the head of the boat. Every time he brought them together, the concussion could be heard at the distance of at least a mile. I intended to jump overboard if he caught the boat. I told Mr. Mayhew, the third mate, who held the steering oar, that the whale would turn over soon to spout, and that then would be our time to kill him. After becoming exhausted, he turned over to spout, and at the same instant we stopped the boat, and buried our lances deep in "his life." One tremendous convulsion of his frame followed, and all was still. He never troubled us more. We towed him to the ship, tried him out, and took ninety barrels of sperm oil from him.

"'When we were cutting him in, we found two irons in his body, marked with the name of the ship Barclay, and belonging to the mate's boat. We afterwards learned that three months before, when the same whale was in lat. 5° S., lon. 105° W., he was attacked by the mate of the ship Barclay, who had a desperate struggle with him, in which he lost his life.'

"Captain Norton, at the time of the adventure with this whale, had 'seen some service,' but he freely confesses that he never before nor since (though he has had his buttons bitten off his shirt by a whale) has come in contact with such an ugly customer as 'the rogue whale,' as he was termed in sailor parlance. He seemed to possess the spirit of a demon, and looked as savage as a hungry hyena. Our readers may imagine the effect such an encounter would have upon a crew of 'green hands.' During the frightful chase of the boat by the whale, their faces were of a livid whiteness, and their hair stood erect. On their arrival at the first port, they all took to the mountains, and few, if any of them, have ever been seen since."

The Citizen was put on her course again, with strong breezes and fair wind. About five days after, we spoke with the Benjamin Tucker, but Captain Sands had taken no oil. In lat. 47° S. another whale was raised; three boats were lowered in pursuit, but before he could be reached by the irons, he turned flukes, and was seen no more. Lost sight of the Benjamin Tucker. We shaped our course for Statan Land. In lat. 48° S. we experienced a very heavy gale from the south-west, which continued with great severity for twenty-four hours. We spoke with the bark Oscar, Captain Dexter, bound round the cape.

Statan Land in sight, passed seventeen ships, all bound for the cape. The Citizen was eleven days in doubling the cape, and experienced very heavy weather. In lat. 54° S. we raised the first right whale, but, blowing hard, could not lower. Whales were in sight several days in succession, but we could not lower, on account of rugged weather. In lat. 47° S. a ship was discovered with her boats down in pursuit of whales; came up with her; lowered for right whales, and chased them for an hour or more, but took none. At this time we spoke with the ship Columbus again, with one of her boats fastened to a whale. She had one boat stoven.

Passed St. Felix Islands, on the coast of Chili, and sighted the Gallipagos. In crossing the equator, it was calm for twenty-seven days, and but little progress was made during that time. On the 20th of April, 1852, after a passage of more than five months from New Bedford, we entered the port of Hilo.

Hilo is a port on the Island of Hawaii, one of the cluster of islands in the North Pacific Ocean called Sandwich Islands. They were discovered by Captains Cook and King in 1778, who gave them their present name, in honor of the first lord of the admiralty. The group consists of ten islands, but all of them are not inhabited; they extend from lat. 18° 50´ to 22° 20´ N., and from lon. 154° 53´ to 160° 15´ W., lying about one third of the distance from the western coast of Mexico to the eastern coast of China. By the census of 1849, the population of seven of the islands is given as follows: Hawaii, 27,204; Oahu, 23,145; Maui, 18,671; Kauhai, 6,941; Molokai, 3,429; Nuhua, 723; Lanai, 523; amounting to 80,641.

Most of these islands are volcanic and mountainous. In several places the volcanoes are in activity. Some of the mountains are of great height, being estimated at fifteen thousand feet.

The climate is warm, but not unhealthy, the winter being marked only by the prevalence of heavy rains between December and March. A meteorological table gives as the greatest heat during the year, 88° of Fahrenheit; as the least, 61°. Some of these islands are distinguished for the cultivation of the yam, which affords quite a valuable supply for ships.

The situation of the Sandwich Islands renders them important to vessels navigating the Northern Pacific, and especially so to whalemen. The ports of Hilo, Lahaina, Honolulu, and a few others, are the resort of a large number of whale ships, for the purpose of obtaining recruits. They may be considered as a central point, where ships meet both in the fall and spring, and from whence all matters of intelligence are transmitted to San Francisco, and from the latter place to the Atlantic States.

Formerly all ship news and letters were brought from the islands to the Atlantic States by homeward bound ships around the Horn, which required for their passages from three and a half to five months. But now, in consequence of mail communications across the isthmus to San Francisco, and from thence to the islands, letters and other public intelligence from the last-named place reach us in six weeks or two months from date.

[CHAPTER II.]

Recruited for the Arctic.—Departure.—Coast of Kamtschatka.—Copper Island.—Going into the Ice with Captain Crosby.—Gale of Wind.—Dangerous sailing in the Ice.—Cape Thaddeus.—Bay of the Holy Cross.—Plover Bay.—Dead Whale.—St. Lawrence Bay.—Whales working north.—Loose, floating Ice.—Ice covered with Walrus.—Fine Weather.—Striking an Iceberg.—Ship leaking.—Return to St. Lawrence Bay.—Damage repaired.—Arrival in the Arctic.

At the port of Hilo the ship was recruited for the Arctic. We remained in port fifteen days, sailed for Honolulu, and left letters for owners and for home. We touched at another port before proceeding to the north, and there we took in an additional supply of provisions, and then directed our course towards the straits.

In lon. 180° W. we hauled to the north towards the coast of Kamtschatka. Passed Copper Island. We saw many ships on our passage thus far, but we took no whales until June.

About this time we captured two whales off shore, and found great quantities of ice. Spoke with Captain Crowell, of the ship Columbus, and Captain Crosby, of the ship Cornelius Howland.

We went into the ice with Captain Crosby, in search of whales, and soon found them; boats were lowered; pursuit commenced; several were struck; but our irons drew, and we therefore lost them.

A gale of wind coming on and increasing, we worked out of the ice as soon as possible. We were at that time, when the gale commenced, some fifteen or twenty miles in the floating and broken masses, of varied thickness and dimensions, greatly obstructing the course of the ship, and rendering her situation at times exceedingly dangerous. But by constant tacking and wearing in order to avoid concussion with the ice, or being jammed between opposite pieces, both ships were finally worked out of the ice in safety.

On the inside of Cape Thaddeus, we saw a large number of ships; spoke with several, but they reported that whales were scarce.

We now put the ship on her course for Behring Straits. We took one whale off the Bay of the Holy Cross, which made the fourth since we left port. We sailed along the coast towards the east; land frequently in sight; foggy; heard many guns from ships for their boats.

When off Plover Bay, ten miles from land, we picked up a dead whale, having no irons in him, nor anchored, and therefore a lawful prize. Many dead whales are found by ships in course of the season, and especially when ice is prevalent. They are struck by different boats, and if in the vicinity of ice, they will surely make for it, and go under it or among it; under these circumstances the lines must be cut. After some time, the badly wounded whales die, and are picked up as before stated.

We passed between St. Lawrence Island and the main land, or Indian Point. The huts of the natives were plainly seen from the ship's deck; still working our way towards the straits. At this time, we were in company with the ship Montezuma, Captain Tower, and the ship Almira, Captain Jenks. Whales were seen going towards the north, as it is usual for them to do so at this season of the year.

We anchored in St. Lawrence Bay; weather foggy. The natives came off to trade, and brought their accustomed articles for traffic, such as deer and walrus skins, furs, teeth, &c. They take in exchange needles, fancy articles, tobacco, &c.

After a few days, the fog having cleared away somewhat, we stood towards the north again; heard guns; saw whales; still in company with afore-mentioned ships; blowing heavy; all the ships in sight were under double-reefed topsails; beating.

Passed East Cape. Saw whales, but they were working quickly to the north; we followed them in their track with all the sail we could carry on the ship; they came to loose, floating ice, into which they went and shortly disappeared. A novel, and yet a common sight was now witnessed; the ice was covered with a vast number of walruses, which, to appearance, extended many miles.

The weather being fine for the season, the last part of June, in company with the Almira, Captain Jenks, we concluded we would go into the ice again, and if good fortune would have it so, we might capture a few whales.

Walrus among Icebergs.

Accidents occur not unfrequently when least expected, and sad ones, too, arise sometimes from the slightest circumstance, or inattention. Contact with icebergs, or large masses of block ice, when a ship is under sail, is highly dangerous. A momentary relaxation of vigilance on the part of the mariner may bring the ship's bows on the submerged part of an iceberg, whose sharp, needle-like points, hard as rock, instantly pierce the planks and timbers of a ship, and perhaps open a fatal leak. Many lamentable shipwrecks have doubtless resulted from this cause. In the long, heavy swell, so common in the open sea, the peril of floating ice is greatly increased, as the huge angular masses are rolled and ground against each other with a force which nothing can resist.

The striking of the Citizen against a mass of ice, which nearly resulted in the loss of the ship and the destruction of the voyage, was simply inattention or misunderstanding the word of command.

The man at the wheel was ordered not to "luff" the ship any more, but "steady," as she was approaching a mass of ice; indeed, ice was all around us, which would have passed us on our larboard bow, and thus we should have escaped a concussion; but instead of doing this, he put the wheel down, which brought the ship into the wind, and the consequence was, a large hole was stoven in her larboard bow; the ship began to leak badly. Casks were immediately filled with water, and placed on the starboard side of the ship, and thus in a measure heeled the ship, which brought the leak to a considerable extent out of the water; otherwise, she must have sunk in a very little time. So far as we were able, we temporarily repaired the injury, and made all possible sail on the ship, in order to seek some place of safety, where the whole extent of the damage could be ascertained.

In the present disabled and crippled condition of the ship, we felt it was exceedingly perilous and unsafe to remain even a single day in the Arctic. We therefore left the whale ground, and though our progress was slow, yet we put upon the ship all the sail she would bear, since on account of the leak she was very much heeled, and we were obliged to sail her in that condition.

Nor was it safe for our ship to be left alone to beat her way back two hundred miles or more, unaccompanied by another vessel, lest by some unforeseen circumstance,—an event not altogether improbable,—the ship might founder at sea, and all on board perish.

Captain Jenks, of the ship Almira, therefore, kindly proffered his services, with whatever aid he could give, and accompanied our ship nearly to the point of her destination, to the Bay of St. Lawrence, which was about two hundred miles distant from the place where the accident occurred.

When off East Cape, we obtained some plank from the ship Citizen, Captain Bailey, of Nantucket. We passed the heads of the bay, and, with shortened sail, we worked our way up more than thirty miles beyond the direction of any chart, our boats being sent ahead, and sounding the depth of water. We finally reached a point, and came to anchor in a little basin, or inlet, about one hundred and sixty feet from the shore, in five fathoms of water, completely landlocked.

Here in good earnest we commenced breaking out the fore hold abreast of the leak, and took out casks, shooks, &c., and careened the ship still more, which exposed at once the full extent of the damage which the ship had sustained from the ice.

It was found that several planks and timbers were badly stoven. Repairs were made with the utmost expedition; and in seven days from the time the ship went into the bay, she was out again, and on her way towards the north, as strong, and perhaps stronger than she was before.

We passed through the straits, and came to anchor north of East Cape, in company with the ship E. Frazer, Captain Taber, and the bark Martha, Captain Crocker. After lying there three or four days, we got under weigh and stood towards north by west, with high winds, and foggy. We heard whales blowing in the night. The next day whales were seen going north; we followed, and finally passed the "school." We changed the course of the ship, beat back, found them again, and commenced taking oil.

About the first of August, the fog having cleared away, we saw a large number of ships "cutting in" and "boiling out," actively engaged in securing a good season's work. We took several whales at this time. All were busy, and at work as fast as possible, in capturing whales, cutting and boiling. The whole scene, in which were some forty or fifty ships taking whales and stowing away oil, was one of exciting and cheering interest.

Such times as these are the whalemen's harvests.

On the 15th of August, during a heavy blow, we lost run of the whales. We spoke with several ships about this time, among which were the Benjamin Morgan, Captain Capel, and the General Scott, Captain Alexander Fisher.

From this last date to the 22d of September, we spoke with a great number of ships; sometimes whales were plenty, and at other times scarce; and the weather equally changeable; sometimes heavy blows, rainy, and foggy; and then again mild and pleasant.

Among others we spoke with Captain Henry Jernegan, and Captain John Fisher, both of whom are now no more, having finished their earthly voyages, and gone to their "long home."

[CHAPTER III.]

Northern Lights.—High Winds.—Spoke with Captain Clough.—Ships seen in the Distance.—Storm increasing.—No Observations.—Blowing heavily.—Scene awfully sublime.—Ship struck by a Sea.—Shoal Water.—Rocks and Breakers.—Ship unmanageable.—Fore and mizzen Topsails carried away.—Ship striking astern, bow, and midships.—Foremast cut away.—Narrow Escape of Captain Norton.—Mizzenmast gone by the Board.—Sad Condition of the Seamen.—Land in Sight.—Ship drifting towards the Shore.—Undertow.—The Lantern Keg.—Mainmast cut away, and falling towards the Shore.—Men escaping on the Mast.—Trying Scene.—Captain washed ashore.—Affecting Deaths.—Wreck piled up on Shore.—Fire made.—Men perishing with Cold.—Five missing.—Prospects dark.—Destitution.—Tent erected.—Merciful Circumstances connected with the Wreck.

On the 21st of September, we finished cutting in a whale, about twelve o'clock, midnight, wind high from the north-east. The northern lights were uncommonly brilliant, which prognosticated a storm; and the broken water and flying spray round the vessel seemed as if composed of an infinite number of diamonds glistening in the rays of the sun.

The season of the year had now arrived in which, in those high latitudes, sudden changes and violent storms were expected. At three o'clock on the morning of the 22d, the ship was put under short sail; rough; unable to keep fires in the furnace; ship heading to the south-east. We spoke with Captain Clough, who had just taken in a "raft" of blubber. We took a whale; and for a little time the wind moderated, which gave us hope that we should have favorable weather some time longer. Captain Clough left us that day, and turned his ship towards the straits, saying, "I am bound out of the ocean, and have enough." His ship was full; he had thirty-two hundred barrels of oil on board.

We concluded to remain on the ground a while longer, in lat. 68° N. The wind, which had in a measure subsided, now began to rise and increase, until it had reached a heavy gale. We saw in the distance several ships steering for the straits, and bound for the islands. On the 23d, it blew hard, and we were unable to boil.

We judged we were, at this time, about one hundred and fifty miles from land. The weather had been thick for several days past, and therefore we were unable to get an observation. We saw several ships lying to, and heading some one way and some another. The water, we perceived, was very much colored, which indicated that we were drifting towards the eastern shore of the Arctic. At twelve o'clock, wore ship, heading north-west by north. At the same hour that night, wore ship again, heading north-east.

We passed a ship, within the distance of half a a mile, under bare poles, laboring very hard. On the 24th, four o'clock, wore ship north-north-west, wind blowing very heavily from the north-east. We saw great quantities of drift stuff, such as barrels, wood, &c., probably the deck load of some ship swept by the sea. At twelve o'clock, wore ship again; the wind appeared to lull somewhat, but the sea was very rugged; we judged we were about one hundred or one hundred and twenty miles distant from land; weather thick, with rain, sleet, and fog. About one o'clock, on the morning of the 25th, the wind increased, and swept over the ocean with the violence of a hurricane. The darkness of the night added to the tumultuous and mountainous waves that were running at that time; the surface of the ocean lashed into fury by the thickening storm, still gathering its strength; the noble ship now rising the crested billow, and then sinking into the watery valley beneath, and pressed down by the beating and overwhelming elements, made the scene one of indescribable grandeur and awfulness. With the return of morning light, an ugly sea struck the ship, and took her spars from the bow, and carried away one of the starboard boats.

The mate immediately reported to the captain, who was below at the time, that the ship was in shoal water. As soon as he reached the deck, he ordered to set the fore and mizzen topsails. About the same time, the fourth mate reported that there were rocks and breakers just before and under the bows of the ship. From the house, the captain saw projecting rocks through the opening waters, and land all around to the leeward, while the sea was breaking with tremendous violence between the ship and shore.

It now became a certainty, which no earthly power could change, that the ship must go ashore; and the only hope for any one on board was to avoid, if possible, the fatal reef, which appeared to extend out some distance from the land. To strike upon that reef was certain destruction; we saw no way of escape.

The man at the wheel was ordered to put the helm hard up, and at the same time command was given to the seamen to sheet home the fore topsail. The ship immediately paid off two or three points, when she was struck again by another sea, that threw her round on the other tack.

The ship was now in the midst of the rollers, pitching and laboring dreadfully, while the sea was flying all over her deck, and the spray reaching nearly or quite to her fore and main yards. She was utterly unmanageable; and, at this instant, another sea boarded her, and took off three boats. The yards were ordered to be braced round as soon as possible; but, in the act of bracing them, a terrible blast of wind struck and carried away the fore and mizzen topsails, half-sheeted home. The foresail was now ordered to be set, the ship still pitching, tumbling, and rolling frightfully, and tossed about as a mere plaything at the mercy of winds and waves. In the act of setting the foresail, the weather clew was carried away, and with the next sea the ship struck aft very heavily, and knocked her rudder off, and sent the wheel up through the house. From five to eight minutes she struck forward with such stunning and overwhelming effect that the try-works started three or four feet from the deck, and opened a hole so large in her starboard bow that the largest casks came out.

About this time, the foremast was cut away, with the hope of temporarily relieving the foundering vessel. Shortly after this, the ship struck midships; and the dreadful crash which followed showed that her entire framework was shattered, while the standing masts bent to and fro like slender reeds when shaken by the wind. This was in effect the finishing blow; and what was to be done towards rescuing any thing below deck must be done soon or never.

The captain, at this critical juncture, went into the cabin to secure what articles he could, such as clothes, nautical instruments, money, &c. While there, the stern burst in, and the water came in between the opening timbers in such torrents as to send him backward and headlong with the few articles he had hastily gathered, and scattered them in every direction. The floor of the cabin opened beneath his feet. There was no time for delay. His life was in imminent peril. He at once started for the deck, but was unable to reach it on account of the house having been thrown down upon the gangway, and the mizzenmast having gone by the board, one part of which rested upon the rail. All access to the deck by the cabin doors was thus cut off.

Mr. Fisher became aware of the condition of the captain in the cabin, and called to him to come to the skylight; and as he jumped, he was caught by his arms, and drawn up by several who had come to his rescue. On reaching the deck, the captain saw at once the sad condition of his men. The sea was making a clear breach over the vessel, and they were huddled together round the forecastle and forward part of the ship, amazed, stupefied, cold, and shivering, and had apparently given themselves up to the fate which awaited them.

The fog having in a measure cleared away, the land was more plainly seen, and just at hand—not more than three hundred yards distant. The mainmast was still standing; and there was every indication that the entire top of the vessel, including the first and second decks, had become separated from her bottom, and was drifting in towards the shore. This proved to be the case. The standing mast was now inclining towards the shore, which seemed to present the only way to deliverance and life. The captain, therefore, encouraged his men to seize the first opportunity which should occur, and escape to land, and the sooner they did so the safer and better.

As the ship changed her position by the action of the waves, which swept over and around her with resistless fury, the end of the flying jib boom, at one time, was brought quite near the shore. The seamen were again urged to make an effort to save themselves. It was, indeed, a most desperate chance to venture an escape even from a present danger, with the liability of falling into another, unknown, and perhaps more to be dreaded. Though so near the solid land, towards which every eye looked and every heart panted, still the surging billows and receding undertow around the bow of the ship, were sufficient to appall the most courageous mind.

About this time, as near as can be recollected, the cooper and one of the boat steerers, having dropped themselves from the bow, reached land in safety. The captain, having observed that two had gained the shore, and knowing the utter impossibility of getting fire ashore if it was deferred until the breaking up of the ship, and without it all must unavoidably perish, even if they were saved from a watery grave, held up the lantern keg to attract their attention, and, making signs to them as far he was able for them to look after and save it, tossed the keg overboard. It was borne on the advancing and retreating waves back and forth for more than a quarter of a mile, before it was finally secured. In this keg, which was air-tight, there were candles, matches, tinder, and other combustible materials. It was indeed a most timely and fortunate rescue.

An effort was now made to get a line ashore. One of the crew fastened a line round his body, and attempted to reach the shore, the captain paying out the warp as was necessary. But in consequence of the great force of the current and undertow around the bow of the ship, the line swayed out so far that the man was compelled to let it go in order to save his life. It was with the greatest difficulty he reached the shore.

As the only and last resort which remained, offering reasonable prospect of deliverance, the mainmast was cut away. The ship was now lying nearly broadside to the shore, with her deck inboard, and so much heeled that it required the greatest attention to prevent one from falling off. The mast fell in the direction of the shore, and nearly reached land. The sea was still breaking with fearful power over the vessel, and its spray flying in dense masses over every thing around us, and the din of the thundering billows, as they beat upon the wreck and upon the shore, drowned all human voices to silence.

Again the captain passed along to the forward part of the ship, and once more remonstrated, urged and entreated his men to exert themselves for their safety and lives, as they had now the same means of getting ashore that the officers had; and, furthermore, that in a short time the deck would go to pieces, and then there would be but little, if any hope of their being saved. He resolved he would not leave the wreck until he saw his men in a fair way of escape. Up to this time, no one, it is supposed, had been lost; several had reached land in safety, but those still on the wreck were exposed every moment to a watery grave.

At length, the steerage boy lowered himself down from the bow, and with manly efforts sought to gain the land. He was immediately swept away, and was never seen after. About this time, many began to crawl down on the mainmast, still lying in the direction of the shore. In working their way along on the mast, their progress was not only slow, but they were chilled, benumbed with cold, their clothes thoroughly wet to their backs, and the sea at the same time flying over them. It was with the greatest difficulty they could hold on. The sight was a most affecting one. It was a period of painful anxiety. How many of these seamen will be saved?—how many will be lost?

While attempting thus to escape upon the mast, the advancing or the returning waves would frequently wash numbers off, and then they would struggle with all their energies to regain the mast or the rigging; while those who were more fortunate, and had retained their hold, would aid them as far as possible in getting on to the mast again. It was a most trying and heart-rending scene.

Wreck of the Citizen.

The captain and Mr. Fisher were on the quarter deck, and observed a part of a boat hanging by the side of the ship; and they proposed to get into it, and, if possible, reach the land. Their purpose was to hold on to the boat, and thus be borne by the sea towards the shore. They did get into it; but whether it was carried towards the shore or not, or what became of the piece of the boat, they have no recollection. They were struck by a sea, and probably stunned. The first returning consciousness the captain had, he found himself floating alongside of the ship. He knew not what had become of Mr. Fisher until some time after. He regained a foothold on the quarter deck again, and seemed awakened more fully than ever to the conviction that he must do something, and that soon, in order to save his own life. He was chilled, benumbed, and exhausted; chances of escape appearing less and less probable, as a last resort, said Captain Norton, "I threw myself into the water, among casks, broken pieces of the wreck, and, besides, my own men floating all around me, that I might, if possible, gain the shore. I was probably insensible for some time. I knew nothing of what took place around me. When I came to myself, I found I was lying near the edge of the water, having been cast ashore by some friendly wave. I looked around, and the first man I saw was the fourth mate, floating about in the water a short distance from me. Mr. Fisher was washed ashore about the same time I was. We hastened to the fourth mate as soon as we were able; and one held on to the hand of the other, and hauled him ashore, supposing him to be dead. He, however, revived."

A heavy sea came along, and washed a number from the mast, and brought them ashore; but one man was carried off by the undertow outside the ship. The next sea brought him near to the shore again; and four of those on shore took hold of each other's hands, and ventured as far as safety would allow into the water, and succeeded in drawing him safe to land.

The condition of the carpenter was painful and distressing in the highest degree; yet no one could help him—no earthly power could afford him any assistance. He was plainly seen by those on shore. He was probably washed from the mast, with some others, and carried out to the deck again; and while there, he was doubtless caught in between the opening planks and timbers, and held fast by his legs; and it may be he was otherwise injured. He answered no signs made to him from the shore; he made no effort to free himself or to escape; and, in his case, an escape was an impossibility. In that position, his head dropped upon his breast, and there he died. Soon after, another sea struck the deck, and broke it all to pieces. The largest part that could be seen was that from the bow to the fore chains.

Another painful occurrence was witnessed by those on the shore. A Portuguese sailor was discovered floating about among the broken pieces of the wreck, among casks, barrels, &c. His efforts for self-preservation were remarkable. His shipmates would most gladly have given him a helping hand, but it was impossible to do so. Every heart was moved with sympathy for him. As the towering wave would hurl towards him some piece of the wreck, or a cask or barrel, he was seen to dive, and thus avoid being crushed by it. This he did repeatedly, until, from exhaustion or injury, or both, he sunk to rise no more.

We had three dogs on board, but they were all either killed or drowned; and of three hogs, only one got ashore alive. Within two hours from the time the ship first struck, the wreck was piled up on shore, opposite to where the disaster occurred, to the height of ten feet or more. Spars, timbers, planks, casks both whole and broken, shooks, &c., were thrown together in frightful confusion; and in this promiscuous mass we saw what was once our home and hope on the deep. Here we saw before our eyes a striking illustration of the feebleness of man's frail bark, and with what ease it is torn to pieces, and scattered far and wide, by the resistless power of the elements.

All who were living of our number had reached the shore. Those that were saved had become greatly chilled, and some were nearly perishing. Notwithstanding it was storming at the time, one of the first efforts of a part of our men was to make a fire over a cliff some little distance from the shore, affording a partial protection from the wind and rain.

In searching for articles as they came ashore, we discovered a small keg of spirits, which, in our condition of cold and destitution, was somewhat reviving to all our minds. Five casks of bread, also, were cast upon the beach; but neither beef nor pork was found. The latter probably sunk where the ship left her bottom.

The whole company was soon gathered round the fire, in order to dry our clothes, and, if possible, to obtain some additional warmth. All, however, of our former number were not there; it was a solemn gathering, and the appearance of all of us indicated that we had a narrow escape. Alas! some of our comrades and fellow-seamen were left behind in the surges of the deep, or mingled with the floating wreck, or cast with it upon the shore. The roll was called by the captain, and thirty-three answered to their names; five were numbered with the dead.

The few hours of the past had been full of painful and distressing interest. The majority of our number had been mercifully rescued; but we were cast shelterless, with a small supply of provisions, with no clothing, only what was upon our backs, upon the most barren and desolate region of the earth.

What were our present prospects? They were dark and ominous indeed. A new voyage, in effect, was just opening before us, with diminished numbers, of the progress and termination of which we could not even entertain a reasonable conjecture; yet one thing was certain—its commencement was inauspicious. And, though hope might measurably sustain our minds, still the prospective view before this company of castaway seamen—the rigors of the arctic winter before us, wholly unprepared with clothing to withstand the merciless and long-continued cold of the north, uncertain whether there would be any deliverance for us by any friendly sail, or what would be our reception among the natives,—indeed, the prospect before us was any thing but cheering and encouraging.

But here we were, in the providence of God, vessel and boats gone, at an unknown distance from civilized life and from the settlements of the natives; this was our present lot. Self-preservation, therefore, prompted us to make immediate efforts, in anticipation of what we might need in the future. A common misfortune united all our interests and exertions.

The captain ordered that every thing of value to them in their present circumstances found among the wreck—such as provisions, casks of sails, pieces of canvas, ropes, broken spars, tools, whale gearing, &c.—should be selected, and brought out of the reach of the surf and the accumulation of ice upon the shore. More than a thousand barrels of oil had drifted ashore, and could have been saved had some vessel arrived about that time. A temporary tent was erected as soon as possible, in which various articles could be stored, as well as afford some protection to us from the inclemency of the weather.

There were two circumstances exceedingly favorable in our disaster. It might have been much worse, and no one might have lived to relate the sad event. We realized, upon the review, that this would have been our certain fate, had the ship gone ashore in the night time. It was, however, daylight, and thus we had a clear view of our condition, danger, and prospects. Had it been otherwise, and the same general features of the wreck been transferred to the darkness of night, we do not believe that one soul of us would have been saved.

The other favorable circumstance was, we were not cast upon a rocky part of the coast, or against some high and precipitous cliffs, which lift their bold and defiant fronts against the surges of the ocean far into deep water; to strike against such as we saw, would, at the first concussion, have been the last of the ship and of all on board.

In the good providence of God, however, we drifted upon a part of the coast which presented, for half of a mile or more, quite a plain, sandy beach. We were, therefore, wrecked in the most fortunate spot. On both sides of us, to the west and south-east, cliffs began to rise, and broken and abrupt ledges extended some distance into the sea. Though five of our number found a watery grave, yet the fact that so many of us reached the shore was a matter of profound gratitude to that God who controls the elements, and before whom the sparrow does not fall to the ground without his notice.

[CHAPTER IV.]

First Night on Shore.—Sleeping in empty Casks.—Parties of Exploration.—Dog Tracks.—Arrangements to leave the Wreck.—Desire to reach East Cape.—Reflections upon our Condition.—The dead Hog roasted.—The "pet Hog."—Company travel toward the South and East.—Two Natives seen.—Parley.—Directed to the Settlement.—The old Woman and her Ceremony.—The second Settlement.—Head Man cordial.—Men distributed among the Huts.—Not able to reach East Cape.—Company entertained.—Motives for it.—Government should reward the Natives.

The first night we spent on shore was a very stormy one. There were rain, sleet, and high winds above and around us; below us, on the ground, ice, snow, and water in abundance. Our tent, which was a hasty and temporary construction, afforded us, after all, but little permanent shelter. The water came through and under it in every direction. Here we found an additional exposure, and the prospect of increased suffering both from the cold and wet. Had it not been for our oil, we could never have kindled a fire at first, nor continued it afterwards.

But necessity gives origin to many inventions and improvements. It suggests new plans, and urges to more favorable shifts and expedients. If, therefore, our arrangements for the first night's lodging on land should seem somewhat novel, or even unheard of before, let it be remembered that sad necessity drove us to this device.

If our frail tent with a few yards of torn sails stretched over us cannot shield us from the drenching rain, something else can. Most of us, on that sad and sorrowful night, got into empty casks; some were oil, others water or bread casks; it mattered not what, if we could only be protected from the violence of the storm, or rest in some place, instead of making the icy earth our bed.

With one head of the cask knocked out, and resting upon its bilge, one or two would get into each cask, and find within it quite a dry retreat. At the same time, a fire was kept burning not far from the open heads of the several casks, placed in a circle around the fire, and thus we were made as comfortable, perhaps, as our circumstances would permit. This was our first night's experience on land.

The next day, arrangements were made to form parties of exploration. We knew not where we were. Of this, however, we were quite certain—that we were north of the straits; but upon what part of the arctic coast we were cast away, we could not tell.

Therefore, our first object was, if possible, to ascertain our true position. The thick, foggy, and stormy weather which had prevailed for many days before the wreck, contributed greatly to mislead us. Neither sun, moon, nor stars had appeared for some time, by which we might have been guided in our course through the trackless deep. All above us had been shrouded with dense clouds, while strong and variable winds, approaching to the severity of tornadoes, and even hurricanes, had carried our ship far out and beyond her true course.

The last, and not the least perhaps, of the causes which resulted in our wreck, was the current, which appeared to change its course during the storm, as it not unfrequently does. At this time, it set from the eastern to the western shore of the Arctic. Under the combined influence of the current coming from the north and east, and a severe gale of wind, accompanied with hail, rain, and fog, our ship was constantly pressed upon the western shore, until she struck and went to pieces.

Two companies were now formed, one to take an easterly course, and the other a westerly one. Those who were left behind were to be employed in making sacks out of canvas, for the purpose of carrying bread and other provisions in our anticipated travels. This expedition was intended only as an introductory one to our final removal from the place, when we should ascertain more particularly where we were.

It was the opinion of some that we were cast away upon an island; and in so far as we could judge at this time, this opinion was rather confirmed.

The captain with his party took their departure towards the east, and Mr. Fisher and his party went towards the west.

Each man was armed with whatever defensive and offensive weapon he could well carry along with him. These weapons were neither guns nor swords, but a few knives, a hatchet, a broken whale lance, and a spade. We knew not with what we should meet, whether savage beasts, or more savage men.

The parties, as they traveled in opposite directions, soon found they were not upon an island, as they at first imagined, but merely upon an extended projection, as it appeared to be, from the main land.

The captain's party, after having traveled in an easterly direction about ten miles, discovered tracks of dog teams, and the footmarks of those who accompanied them. These facts assured the explorers that human habitations of some sort were not probably far distant. They therefore returned immediately to the tent to inform their companions, and to make particular arrangements for more extended researches. The western party also returned to the tent soon after the other, having made no very definite discoveries.

We became satisfied at this time, from the direction of the coast, and the general aspect of the country, that we were north of East Cape; but how far distant from it, we had no means of determining. It was likewise a matter of equal uncertainty whether we were east or west of East River. If we were west of this river, the prospect of our liberation the coming winter, or of meeting with any friendly sail, was extremely small. If, however, we were east of the river, we had strong hopes of deliverance before the winter should fairly set in, and that we should be able to reach East Cape in season to intercept some ship bound out of the ocean.

Thus we reasoned upon and discussed those matters which pertained to our speedy deliverance, or our bondage for months to come in the dreadful and merciless winter of the polar region; or it may be that no one of our number would escape to tell the wreck of the ship, and the catastrophe which would befall his fellow-companions.

Besides, considerations were urgent and pressing why we should make all possible haste, either to find some suitable habitation for the winter, or, perchance, fall in with some friendly vessel. With the advance of the season, we were assured that traveling would become more and more difficult, and that Borean storms would soon burst upon us with resistless fury. And hence, to remain where we were first cast upon the shore, without persevering efforts to save our lives, would be the height of presumption. With nothing more to protect us than the frail tent which we had erected, thinly clad, and all we had on our backs, a limited supply of provisions from the wreck, if we should remain at our first landing place until deliverance should come to us, then, indeed, before the opening of another spring, all of us would have fallen victims to inexorable death.

At this distance from the place where the scene of our sufferings commenced, how little can our readers appreciate what were then our condition, wants, and prospects! Indeed, ice and snow already began to largely increase, though we were in the region of eternal frosts, where they never wholly disappear. Both upon the shore, and as far as the eye could reach in an inland direction, the ice and snow were perennial occupants of the country. Neither the rains of spring nor the suns of summer are able to melt away and dissolve the deep foundations of a polar winter.

The surface of the country was much broken and uneven, and especially in the interior, alternating in valleys, deep gorges, precipitous cliffs, rugged and rocky eminences, one elevation rising above another, until the remote horizon exhibited lofty mountain ranges. The entire panoramic view presented an aspect at once sublime and frightful to behold.

It should be remembered that, amid our hopes and fears, we stood at this time on the borders of human habitations; and beyond this locality, as we afterwards ascertained, especially on this coast, there was but one known settlement of the natives to the north of us.

The dead hog that drifted ashore was skinned and roasted for supper on the second night after the wreck, and for breakfast next morning. Utensils for cooking were very scarce; only a few small articles had come ashore. The hog was suspended over the fire, and turned over and around when necessary, until it was baked suitable for eating.

Preparations were made on the coming day for another traveling-exploring expedition, in which all were to be included as one company. The grand purpose we now had in view was to find a passage to East Cape, or to fall in with the huts or settlements of the natives.

Before leaving, however, a grave question arose as to what should be done with the live hog, which had thus far shared with us in our deliverance from the wreck, and from his general deportment seemed to realize his forlorn condition.

This was a "pet hog" among the seamen; he knew his name, and appeared to have more than ordinary intelligence; at least, this was his reputation on board of the ship. His weight was not far from twelve score. He was washed from the deck at the time it was broken up by the sea, and discovered, by Mr. Fisher, floating about in the surf, and supposed to be dead. He went to him, and struck a smart blow upon his back, and said to him, "Jack, what are you doing here?" He immediately gave a grunt or two, started upon his feet, and struggled for the shore. He went with us to the tent, and made that his home. He would frequently wander forth some distance from the tent, apparently ruminating upon the sad state of things; and after a while he would return and take up his position at the entrance of the tent. In the estimation of the crew, he was indeed one of the "learned hogs."

When the question came up, what should be done with "Jack," many at once resolved they would never eat him, because he knew so much; and being so strongly attached to him, he really seemed like one of our number: "Old Jacky must not be eaten."

A different counsel finally prevailed. If we should leave him behind, he would soon be destroyed by wild beasts, and especially bears, that swarm the region; or he would perish with hunger. In view of these considerations, it was decided to kill the favorite hog, more from necessity than choice. He was accordingly killed and roasted, and a division made of him, each man taking his proportionate share. A cheese was also divided into as many parts as there were men, and distributed to each. Each man carried a sack containing thirty biscuits, in addition to other articles of provision just mentioned.

We were particular also before leaving, though it was quite uncertain whether we should ever see the spot again, to save from the wreck and stow away in the tent whatever we thought might be necessary for future use. This was a judicious precaution. As a last resort, if all other sources of deliverance should fail us, neither finding the settlements of the natives, or being received by them, nor seeing any ship to take us off, then we must return to the wreck, and make the best of what we had, and live as long as we could.

We furthermore agreed to travel seven days from the wreck, and if we found no help or deliverance from any quarter, then we would return, which would require seven days more—about as long as we supposed our provisions would last us.

The direction we took was towards the east and south, along shore, which was less difficult to travel than farther back in the country; besides, there were less snow and ice on the seaboard at that time.

We had traveled, as was supposed, about fifteen miles, when we saw two natives, some little distance before us, in an inland direction. At first they were unwilling to stop, probably aware from our appearance that we were foreigners. While we all kept together the natives continued on their way.

Captain Norton and two of his officers separated themselves from the rest of the company, making signs, thus indicating peaceable intentions, and advanced towards them. The natives then stopped. The captain and those with him approached them and shook hands with them. The natives appeared to understand the signals and signs, and at once desired that all the company that was behind some distance would come forward to them. This they did. The natives pointed in the direction of their settlement, and furthermore desired all the company to follow them. We followed them until we came in sight of their huts. Here the whole company was requested to stop, with the exception of the captain and two of his officers. We went with the natives into the settlement, and were immediately conducted into the presence of a very old woman, who marked one side of our faces with two lines, and our hands in the same manner, with a burnt stick. After this singular manœuvre was over, she made signs to the captain to call all his men, and they also were marked upon their faces and hands.

It is altogether probable that the marking of our faces and hands by this old woman with a burnt stick was some sacred rite, and that she might have been a sort of priestess or prophetess among the natives, and that the ceremony was a mark of her approval, or that she secured the protection of some divinity in our behalf.

It was ascertained afterwards, that this old woman was held in very high repute among the natives, and that she was supposed to be a personification of a certain deity which inhabited some remote mountain in the interior of the country.

We also learned that the purpose she had in view in marking our faces and hands, was, that we might not poison those with whom we should eat, or contaminate any thing we should take hold of with our hands.

We were distributed among the several huts, and remained there that night. The natives set before us something to eat in the form of whale and walrus blubber, and deer meat. This "bill of fare" had not the recommendation of being cooked, but in its original state, with no other condiment than what age imparted to it. But whether the whole company found their appetites or necessities such as to pass immediately into this new regimen, was quite, if not altogether, improbable.

This settlement appeared to be of a temporary character; the natives with their families having come from another region or section of the country for the purpose of trading and hunting. There were but five huts in all. Our company, therefore, of thirty-three persons, occupied all the room they had to spare. It was close stowage but far better for us than to be exposed and unprotected during a long and chilly night.

After our arrival at this settlement, and some time during the night, word was sent by the natives, as we afterwards learned, to another and larger settlement, to inform the natives there that a company of shipwrecked mariners (raumkidlins) had come, and wanted shelter.

Accordingly next morning, ten or fifteen dog teams, with their drivers, made their appearance, having come from a settlement east of us for the purpose of transporting us, with our effects, to new and larger quarters. We arrived at this latter place about four o'clock in the afternoon, distance about twenty miles.

The captain, with two others, went directly to the head man of the settlement, whose name was Taunty, and made him understand, by signs and gestures, that they wished him to take care of the whole company.

He readily assented to our request. He manifested a most kind and obliging disposition. He showed a degree of sympathy for us in our destitute and dependent condition wholly unlooked for, and altogether unexpected. Such accommodations as he and his people had were promptly offered to us.

Native Costume.

In this instance of cordial reception by the natives, the hand of a good and merciful Providence can be easily discovered. What if, at this time of our need, the natives had thrust us away from their dwellings, and refused us shelter for the night, or a protection from the storm? or if they had exhibited towards us the spirit of hostility and war? Augmented sufferings would have been added to our otherwise unhappy lot. There would have been no escape for us from the arctic region. But we found friends when we most needed them.

We were distributed among the natives in the following manner: four men and one officer were to constitute a company; and in this proportion we occupied our respective huts, lived with the families, and shared in their accommodations.

Compared with the first settlement, where we stopped for the first night in our travel, this one was quite respectable, numbering twenty or more huts.

We had no intention of making this settlement a permanent resting place for the winter, if by any means we could find a more southern locality. We cherished strong hope of being able to reach East Cape, and thus being taken off by some ship passing through the straits, before the approach of winter. Nor was there any time to be lost towards completing such an arrangement as this.

One of the first things which we did, was to make known our wants to the head man of the settlement. So far as we were able, we conversed with him by signs, and thus endeavored to explain to him what we wished to do. He gave us to understand that it was impossible for us to travel down to East Cape this season of the year, and that the distance to the cape was very great, and it was therefore impossible to get there.

Not knowing our precise locality upon the coast, we could not tell whether the cape was three or five hundred miles from us. We concluded it would be safer to remain where we were than to venture upon such an uncertainty. It was afterwards ascertained that we were distant from East Cape about two hundred and fifty miles.

The head man gave us to understand, in his way, that there was a very great river to cross before we could get to East Cape, and that it could not be crossed now; and still further, if we should perish on the way, great ships (laloutoutlines) would come, kill him, and destroy all their huts.

On the whole, we judged that it was the desire of the head man that we should remain with him and his people, and live among them for the present; and nothing occurred in all our subsequent acquaintance with the natives in this settlement to remove this impression from our minds. It may be, however, that they anticipated some remuneration for their attention to us, which, by the way, they had a right to expect. This was not unlikely a motive which induced them to desire that we might live with them.

We sincerely hope the time may speedily come, when they shall be amply recompensed by our government for their kindness towards thirty-three American seamen, whom they protected, clothed, and fed, during three quarters of a year.

[CHAPTER V.]

No Prospect of reaching East Cape.—Painful Conviction.—The Province of Christian Faith.—The Wreck visited.—The Natives.—Hope unexpectedly revived.—Ship in Sight.—Comes near.—Signals from the Land.—No Assistance offered.—Sails down the Coast.—Indescribable State of our Minds.—Card in The Polynesian.

The prospect of reaching East Cape for the present was at length abandoned. A conclusion was arrived at, from the necessity of our condition, which was full of disappointed hope, and which required an unusual degree of patient courage to sustain our minds under the painful conviction that we must, after all, spend the next three quarters of a year, if we should live, in the northern regions. How the mind of man becomes shaped and adjusted to meet certain conditions of his being! If viewed in the light of unavoidable necessity, we see the force and independence of mind grappling with adverse circumstances, thus proving its original superiority over all outward disadvantages. It is, however, the province of Christian faith in the providences of an all-wise God, which secures to the mind true reconciliation, imparts hope in adversity, and awakens unearthly joy in seasons of sorrow and disappointment.

The next day after our arrival at our new habitations, the whole company rested, and got somewhat recruited as to our bodies, and, not the least in our circumstances of anticipated captivity for months, our minds became partially settled that we must make the best of a common disaster and a common destiny.

The day following, preparations were made by ourselves, in connection with the natives and their dog teams, to visit the wreck. One of the first questions asked, and the principal one in which the natives were more interested than in any other, was, whether there was any rum at the wreck. A keg of spirits had been washed ashore, as before stated, and a part of it had been used, and the remainder was in the keg in the tent, stowed away with other articles from the wreck.

A difficulty was now apprehended. If the natives should find the keg of rum, and become intoxicated, as they probably would, serious and perhaps fatal consequences might take place. To avoid any fears of this sort, and remove all grounds of contention, the captain sent two of his men ahead, with orders to knock in the head of the rum keg. It was done as commanded; no further difficulty, therefore, could arise from this source.

Self-preservation prompted to this; but in a multitude of instances no less striking, where property, reputation, and even life itself are concerned, a like decision, to knock in the head of the rum keg, or break jugs and bottles, and pour the source of evil upon the ground, would be highly commendable, and fraught with the most happy results.

In due time we reached the wreck, and, as was expected, the natives began to search for spirits; but for their advantage, as well as ours, they found none. They sought every where for it, ransacked every nook and corner, hauled over wreck stuff, looked into barrels, knocked to pieces oil casks, &c., to find it, but all in vain.

It appeared, furthermore, as if the natives supposed they had a right to whatever they could lay their hands upon, and what they found among the wreck, or on shore, was a lawful prize. Several pieces of white and blue cotton cloth had washed ashore since the wreck was last visited; these the natives appropriated to their own use. A slate was found, and upon it we wrote the name of the ship, her captain, and where the crew could be found, and placed it in a prominent position near the wreck, hoping that it might possibly meet the eye of some deliverer, though an event so much desired could now hardly be expected.

The company remained in the vicinity of the wreck until towards night, and then each man took with him a bag of bread, and, with the natives and their dog teams, we left for the settlement, which was about fifteen miles distant.

It was exceedingly hard to visit the scene of our recent disaster, and behold the desolation and end of the noble ship that had withstood so many storms and weathered so many gales, but now a promiscuous mass of broken timbers, planks, and spars; besides, her cargo thrown upon the beach. If possible, it was even harder to leave what remained of her behind, and to carry away a small quantity of provisions to eke out an existence which, under the most favorable circumstances, among the natives, must be most trying and painful. And then, again, all the provisions we expected to obtain from the wreck could last us but a few months, at the longest. If our lives, therefore, should be prolonged, we saw before us the only alternative of living as the natives did, being constant spectators of their extreme filthiness in person and habits, and sharing with them in the peculiarly offensive and disgusting character and preparation of their food.

The next day, the company remained in the settlement, wearied with the labor of the preceding day, and, the greatest calamity of all, oppressed in our minds, as we contemplated the future; and as we began to realize more and more what would probably be our destination for many long months to come.

"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick;" but hope revived—when well nigh abandoned and ready to expire, like the last flickerings of the lamp—hope revived imparts new life, and sends a thrill of joy through languishing minds. Thus the weak become strong, and the disheartened are animated and encouraged to put forth more earnest efforts. Hope revived under the circumstances in which these shipwrecked mariners were placed was like the introduction of light, comfort, and home into their wintry habitations. What intelligence more to be desired and sincerely asked for than the announcement of a sail in sight?

Think of them, as brooding over their anticipated doom; settling it, or having settled it in their minds, that their abode was doubtless fixed for the present; thoughts of home now and then rushing into their minds with overwhelming force, or, it may be, with the only exception of their sleeping moments, never out of their minds; indeed, their very dreams shaded, colored, and made treacherously illusive with joyous meetings of companions, parents, relatives, and friends! Think of them at such a time as this, when the hope of deliverance had taken its lowest dip, like the wintry sun of the Arctic passing below the horizon, its light and comfort quite departing; so hope in the minds of this company of wrecked mariners had fallen beyond any reasonable expectation of deliverance.

Severe and terrific storms of wind, rain, hail, and snow had swept over the northern ocean, and ere this it was supposed that every ship had sought a more southern and genial clime.

What, then, was our unexpected and glad surprise, on the following day, when, amid the tumult and confusion, as well as the excitement of the natives, both in and around the huts, it was announced that a sail was in sight!

With all possible speed we hastened to a high cliff bordering the sea shore, and there we saw, indeed, what our eyes delighted to behold, and our bosoms swelled with grateful emotions to contemplate—a ship under sail, some ten or twelve miles distant, and standing in directly for the shore. As we looked, never before with more exhilarated spirits and reviving hope, on, on the vessel came, approaching nearer and nearer, until her davits were plainly seen, and men walking to and fro on deck. The ship now was not more than two miles distant. She came to, main yard hauled back, and lay in that position a quarter of an hour or more.

With these indications, all doubt had nearly or quite left our minds that the intentions of those on board were to take us off. Still, no boat was lowered, nor was there any answering signal. This surely was mysterious, and betokened fear. And yet could it be that within so short a distance no deliverance would be extended? It was contrary to reason to believe so; the thought must not be cherished a single moment. We should soon tread a friendly deck, and share again a sailor's home on the deep. Thus whispered hope, suddenly revived in all our hearts.

But in order to make the case doubly sure, and remove all suspicion in the minds of those on board that those on shore were not all natives, two colors, one white and the other blue, were raised upon poles to the height of full thirty feet. It was plainly seen by those on board, as subsequent testimony from the officers abundantly proved. Besides, these were signals of civilization, of common brotherhood, of pressing emergency, and strongly excited hope. But, alas! they met with no response from that vessel's deck.

Lest there should be a lurking distrust in the minds of the captain and officers of the ship that these signals were a mere trickery or device of the natives to get on board of the ship, or for the ship to send a boat ashore, the company on shore separated themselves from the natives, so that with the aid of a glass, or even with the naked eye, a distinction in manner, movement, and dress could be easily seen by those on shipboard. This expedient also failed.

As another resort to attract attention, a fire was kindled; and yet the rising and curling smoke met with no cordial response, no friendly salutation; no boat came to our rescue. Shortly after, the ship filled away, passed down the coast, and was seen no more.

We felt, what no language can adequately express, that this was an instance of cold, deliberate, and even infamous neglect. Could it be they were ignorant of the ordinary laws of humanity, and wilfully misconstrued the most obvious signs of needy and suffering seamen? Instances have, indeed, occurred, in which vessels at sea have been known to pass near shipwrecked mariners, and yet they were not discovered. They were upon a low raft, perhaps, or had no means of raising a signal, and were therefore passed. The imploring cries and stretched-out hands of the sufferers were alike unheeded; not from any intentional neglect, by any means, but simply because they were not seen from the vessel's deck.

It is sad to contemplate an oversight even like this, in which the hopes and lives of a number of unfortunate seamen were suspended upon the bare possibility of being recognized by the passing ship.

How many, many have doubtless perished in mid ocean, whose eyes beheld again and again the approaching and departing sail, whose hearts alternately rose in hope and sunk in despondency, and yet at last died without the precious boon of deliverance!

Other instances have, however, occurred, of a far different character. Suffering, exhausted, and dying mariners, either upon wrecks or rafts, have been left uncared for and abandoned by the passing ship.

If the records of the past did not furnish conclusive evidence of the truth of the foregoing statement, it would seem that the bare announcement of the fact would be sufficient not only to appall the hardest heart, and cover with deep and lasting shame the perpetrators of such a deed, but to place it in the frightful category of those events absolutely beyond both human experience and credulity.

Revelation informs us that "the sea shall give up its dead;" so will there be a resurrection both of the good and bad in human conduct. A virtuous and benevolent act performed upon the ocean will never be concealed. The winds, as they sweep over its surface, will declare it. And so, on the other hand, an act of inhumanity, capriciousness, cruelty, or turning a deaf ear to the expostulations and entreaties of the dependent and suffering, will never slumber. The mighty waves, as they traverse the great deep, will speak in thunder tones that the deed lives.

The hopes of thirty-three persons in the cold and dreary region of the north, in the province of perpetual ice and snow, were suddenly and unexpectedly revived by the near approach of a ship within trumpet hail; signals of wrecked mariners on shore, the ship remaining more than fifteen minutes with her yards back, and those on board beholding the demonstrations of intense anxiety of those on shore that deliverance might be sent to them, and yet not one motion made for our rescue! The ship is soon on her way, and out of sight. If hope was ever suddenly and unexpectedly revived, it was then; if hope was ever suddenly cast down to its lowest depths, it was then.

Nor could our eyes hardly believe what we were beholding. Was it all illusion, dream, or magic? No; it was a reality. We had been tantalized. The cup of the greatest earthly blessing had been held to our lips, and yet we were not allowed to drink of it, but it was dashed to the earth in our very presence. The departure of that ship was the departure of mercies to us, to procure which we would have been willing to make the greatest earthly sacrifice.

What a day of joy and sorrow was that to us! How many hitherto downcast countenances were lighted up! What words of good cheer passed from one to another! How many hearts bounded with thankfulness and gratitude at the thought of so speedy a deliverance!

Our families and friends at home were thus far ignorant of the distressing scenes through which we had passed, and also of our present condition; but ere long, as we believed, on our arrival at the islands, we should communicate to them the wreck of our ship, the loss of the voyage, and the fortunate rescue of so many of our number from a watery grave.

We felt that we had much for which to be thankful to God, and that soon we should be able to send to anxious ones at home the happy intelligence that we were among the saved.

Such is hope when strongly excited. It ennobles and invigorates the human soul; it adorns the horizon with the gorgeous drapery of morning clouds; it paints the evening with the glories of departing day; it forgets the past; it is the elixir of life itself; without it man lives only in the present, and anticipates no future good.

But that was a day of sorrow too! It seemed as if we should sink into the very earth, and that we were unable to stand, with such a load and pressure upon our spirits. We were crushed both in body and mind. Contending emotions of indignation, abandoned hope, unmitigated grief, and poignant sorrow, swayed and strongly agitated every bosom. The whole company wept like children.

It may be asked, "Why did not the officers and crew avail themselves of the canoes of the natives, and go off to the ship?" It is true there were several canoes near the shore, but the natives were unwilling they should be touched; from what cause we could not understand. Our acquaintance with them, and theirs with us, had thus far been very slight; and it may be they had serious suspicions in their minds that we designed some evil towards them. They were doubtless governed by some notions, in refusing us the aid of their canoes, in keeping with their half-civilized or barbarous natures.

The captain and others offered to hire the canoes, at the same time presenting to them some little articles they had with them, as a pocket or jack knife, but all to no purpose. They resisted every proposition.

The officers and some of the crew were so anxious to get to the ship that they proposed twice to the captain to take forcible possession of the canoes, and follow the ship; and they would have done it, and risked all the consequences, had the captain approved of it. He, however, opposed this plan, on the ground that though a few might succeed in reaching the ship, yet those who were left behind, being entirely unarmed, would probably be instantly killed, and, therefore, it was bad policy to expose the lives of a majority of the company for the safety of only a few. Or, it may be, in their first efforts to seize the canoes, and before they could even get them into the water, the natives would fall upon us, and massacre the whole company on the spot. And still farther, we were wholly in their power, both for the present and for months to come, and without their kindness and good will we had no sort of chance for life; therefore the least misunderstanding or violent collision between the parties might lay the foundation for causes which would result, if not now, yet in some future time, in the destruction of the whole company. These considerations, suggested by the captain, dissuaded his men from attempting a forcible seizure of the canoes of the natives; and, therefore, for the good of the whole, that means whereby a few possibly might have reached the ship, was given up.

We leave this painful reminiscence of the past by copying from The Polynesian, published at Honolulu, November 19, 1853, the following