SHIPWRECK OF THE NAUTILUS.
The ship Nautilus, Captain Palmer, with important despatches for England, sailed from the Dardanelles, on the 30th of January, 1807. Passing through the islands which abound in the Greek Archipelago, she approached the Negropont, where the navigation became both intricate and dangerous. The wind blew fresh, and the night was dark and squally; the pilot, a Greek, advised them to lay-to till morning; at daylight she again went on her course, passing in the evening, Falconera and Anti-Milo. The pilot, who had never gone farther on this tack, here relinquished the management of the vessel to the captain, who, anxious to get on, resolved to proceed during the night, confidently expecting to clear the Archipelago by morning; he then went below, to take some rest, after marking out on the chest the course which he meant to steer.
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Shipwreck Of The Nautilus.
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The night was extremely dark, vivid lightning at times flashed through the horizon. The wind increased; and though the ship carried but little sail, she went at the rate of nine miles an hour, borne on by a high sea, which, with the brightness of the lightning, made the night appear awful. At half past two in the morning, they saw high land, which they took for the island of Cerigotto, and went confidently on, supposing that all danger was over. At half-past four, the man on the look-out, [pg 240] cried, "breakers a-head!" and instantly the vessel struck with a tremendous crash; the violence of the shock being such, that those below were thrown from their beds, and on coming on deck, were compelled to cling to the cordage. All was confusion and alarm; scarcely had part of the crew time to hurry on deck, before the ladder gave way, leaving numbers struggling with the water, which rushed in at the bottom. The captain and lieutenant endeavored to mitigate the fears of the people; and afterwards, going down to the cabin, burnt the papers and private signals. Meantime, every sea dashed the vessel against the rocks; and they were soon compelled to climb the rigging, where they remained an hour, the surge continually breaking upon them.
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The lightning had ceased, but so dark was the night, that they could not see a ship's length before them; their only hope rested in the falling of the main mast, which they trusted would reach a small rock, which lay very near them. About half an hour before morning, the mast gave way, providentially falling towards the rock, and by means of it they were enabled to gain the land. In this hasty struggle to get to the rock, many accidents occurred; some were drowned, one man had his arm broke, and many were much hurt. The captain was the last man who left the vessel, refusing to quit it till all had gained the rock. All the boats but one had been staved in pieces; the jolly-boat indeed remained, but they could not haul it in. For a time the hull of the wreck sheltered them from the violence of the surf; but it soon broke up, and it became necessary to abandon the small rock on which they stood, and to wade to another somewhat larger. In their way they encountered many loose spars, dashing about in the channel; several in crossing were severely hurt by them. They felt grievously the loss of their shoes, for the sharp rocks tore their feet dreadfully, and their legs were covered with blood. In the morning they saw the sea covered with the fragments of the wreck, and many of their comrades floating about on spars and timbers, to whom they could not give any assistance.
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They saw that they were cast away on a coral rock almost on a level with the sea, about four hundred yards long, and three hundred broad. They were at least twelve miles from the nearest islands, which were afterwards found to be those of Cerigotto and Pera. In case any vessel should pass by, they hoisted a signal of distress on a long pole. The weather was very cold, and the day before they were wrecked, the deck had been covered with ice; with much difficulty they managed to kindle a fire, by means of a flint and some powder. They erected a small tent, composed of pieces of canvas and boards, and were thus enabled to dry their few clothes. The night was dreary and comfortless; but they consoled themselves with the hope that their fire might be descried in the dark, and taken for a signal of distress. Next day they were delighted at the approach of a small whale-boat, manned by ten of their comrades. When the vessel was wrecked, these men had lowered themselves [pg 243] into the water, and had reached the island of Pera, but finding no fresh water, were compelled to depart; and noticing the fire were enabled to join their shipmates. But the waves ran so high that the boat could not come to the shore, and some of those on the land endeavored to reach it. One of the seamen called to Captain Palmer, inviting him to come to them, but he steadily refused, saying, "No, Smith, save your unfortunate shipmates; never mind me." After some consultation, they resolved to take the Greek pilot on board, intending to go to Cerigotto, where, he assured them, were a few families of fishermen, who might perhaps be able to afford them some relief.
After the boat departed, the wind increased; in about two hours a fearful storm came on. The waves mounted up, and extinguished their fire; they swept over nearly the whole of the rock, compelling them to flee for refuge to the highest part. Thus did nearly ninety pass a night of the utmost horror; being compelled, lest they should be washed off, to fasten a rope round the summit of a rock, and to clasp each other. Their fatigue had been so great that several of them became delirious, and lost their hold. They were also in constant terror of the wind veering more to the north, in which case the waves would have dashed over their position.
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They now began to sink under their hardships, and many had suffered deplorably. One had been so dashed against the rocks as to be nearly scalped, exhibiting a dreadful spectacle; he lingered out the night, but expired next morning. They were ill prepared to sustain famine, and they were almost hopeless of escape. They dreaded lest the storm should come on before the boat could have reached the island, for on her safety their own depended. In the midst of these horrors the daylight broke, and they saw the bodies of their departed shipmates, some still writhing in the agonies of death. The sea had broken over them all night, and some, among whom was the carpenter, had perished from cold.
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Soon after, a vessel approached, and their hearts beat high with the hope of deliverance. All her sails were set, and she came down before the wind, steering right for the rock. They made repeated signals of distress, and the vessel hove to, and hoisted out her boat. They hastily prepared rafts to carry them through the surf, confident that the boat was provided with supplies to relieve them. The boat came within pistol-shot, full of men dressed in the European fashion. But what were their indignation and grief, when the person who steered, after gazing at them a few minutes, waved his hat, and then rowed off to the ship! Their misery was increased by seeing the crew of the stranger-vessel employed in collecting the floating fragments of the wreck. After this grievous disappointment, their only hopes lay in the return of the boat. They looked in vain; not a glimpse of her was to be seen. A raging thirst tormented them; and some, in spite of warning, drank salt water; raging madness soon followed, and their agonies were terminated by death. Another awful night was passed by them. To preserve themselves from the cold, they huddled close together, and covered themselves with their few remaining rags. They were haunted by the ravings of those who had drunk the sea-water, whom they tried in vain to pacify.
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About twelve o'clock, the crew of the whale-boat hailed them; they cried out in their agony for water. They could not procure it, for those in the boat had none but earthen vessels, which could not be conveyed through the surf. They were assured that they would be taken off by a fishing vessel next morning; but there seemed to be little chance of their surviving till then.
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In the morning, the sun for the first time shone upon the rock. They waited hour after hour, but there was no appearance either of the boat or the vessel. Famine consumed them; but they looked with loathing on the only means of appeasing it. When, however, the day wore on, after praying for forgiveness of the sinful act, they were compelled to feed on one of their number who had died the preceding night. Several expired towards evening; among whom were the captain and first lieutenant. During the night, some thought of constructing a raft which might carry them to Cerigotto. The wind seemed favorable; and to perish in the waters seemed preferable to remaining to die a lingering death from hunger and thirst. At daylight, as fast as their feeble strength permitted, they prepared to put their plan in execution, by lashing together a number of larger spars. Scarcely had they launched it, when it was destroyed. Five, rendered desperate, embarked on a few spars hastily lashed together, which gave them scarcely room to stand; they were soon carried away by unknown currents, and were no more heard of.
In the afternoon the whale-boat came again in sight. The crew told them that they had experienced great difficulty in persuading the Greek fishermen of Cerigotto to venture to put to sea, because of the stormy weather; but they gave them hopes, that if the weather moderated, the boats would come next day. Before they had done speaking, twelve men plunged from the rock into the sea, and nearly reached the boat; two were taken in, one was drowned, and the rest were so fortunate as to recover their former station.
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As the day wore on, their weakness increased. One of the survivors described himself as feeling the approach of annihilation; his sight failed, and his senses were confused; his strength was exhausted; he looked towards the setting sun, expecting never to see it rise again. Suddenly the approach of the boats was announced; and from the depth of despair, they rose to the very summit of joy. Their parched frames were refreshed with copious draughts of water.
Immediate preparations were made for departure. Of one hundred and twenty-two persons on board the Nautilus, when she struck, fifty-eight had perished. Eighteen were drowned when she was wrecked, five were lost in the small boat, and thirty-four died of famine. About fifty now embarked in four fishing vessels, and landed the same evening at Cerigotto; making sixty-four in all, including those saved in the whale-boat. During their six days sojourn on the rock, they had nothing to subsist on, save human flesh.
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They landed at a small creek. The Greeks received them with great hospitality, but had not skill to cure their wounds, and had no bandages but those procured by tearing up their own shirts. Wishing to procure some medical assistance, they desired to reach Cerigo, an island twenty miles distant, on which an English vice-consul resided. Fourteen days elapsed before they could set sail. They bade adieu to these kind preservers, and in six or eight hours reached Cerigo, where all possible help was afforded them. Thence they were conveyed by a Russian ship to Corfu; where they arrived on the 2d of March, 1807, about two months after their melancholy disaster.
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