CHAPTER IV.
THE MELANCHOLY MARCH THROUGH THE WILDERNESS.
“They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way, they found no city to dwell in. Hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted in them. Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distresses.”
The first view of our solitary landing-place revealed to us a wild and barren region. Neither traces of cultivation, nor marks of human abode, nor even tracks of living creature, met our eye in all the adjacent landscape; and my heart misgave me at the prospect, lest we had only exchanged the scene of our miseries, but not escaped from them. The idea of delay in obtaining succours was too painful to indulge, for every hour only added to the horrors of our situation.
Our scanty supplies were rapidly wasting away, and the strength of the people was already well nigh spent by fatigue and famine. I dared not to anticipate the consequences of even a short continuance of such a state of things, and felt that our utmost efforts must be directed to urgent measures for immediate deliverance.
Meanwhile, every arrangement was made for present exigencies. A small refreshment was distributed immediately after landing, and our weary men set about the erection of tents, which were soon reared, by lashing a few spars together and overlaying them with sails and blankets. This shelter was peculiarly seasonable to persons, who, for nine days and nights had not known the luxury of lying down, or resting their exhausted frames; especially as an African sun was blazing in noon-tide brilliancy, and with insufferable fierceness over our heads. Our wasted people soon betook themselves to repose and I was pleased to find that the greater number of them were soon lost in sweet forgetfulness of all their woes. As for myself, sleep had so long been a stranger to my aching frame, that it refused at first to revisit me, and my mind was too anxiously concerned for the future to court its present approach. So soon, therefore, as I found the others asleep, Mr. Wallace the mate, and I—who had lain down together, and were alike wakeful—rose up and went forth to consult as to our future course of proceeding. We were agreed in thinking that the parched and desolate appearance of the place gave little hope of finding water, or of obtaining relief; and that our whole and instant efforts must be directed to discover succours by sea or land. Two courses only presented themselves: the first, which was to re-enter the boats, and endeavour to reach the Cape colony by sea, was plainly impracticable from the severity of the weather; the sea at that moment being visible below us in its wildest majesty, as it thundered its mountainous billows against the base of the rocks, and scattered its angry foam over the cliffs to a hundred and twenty feet above its bed. Besides, we were conscious that even in calmest weather, our company could not possibly survive for twenty-four hours, under a renewed exposure and crowding in the boats, without a fresh supply of water and provisions. We were shut up, therefore, to the only available alternative of seeking succour by a land journey, and by keeping a southerly course in the direction of the Cape, we hoped that we might soon reach some human habitation. I proposed that we should remain till the expiry of the following day, in order to recruit our people for the journey, and to complete the necessary preparations for our departure. Meanwhile a search could be made for water, and I would endeavour to obtain an observation at noon, in order to certify our exact latitude, and ascertain our distance from the Cape. This course was afterwards submitted to the whole company, and as it met their approval, it was adopted.
We had carried George Peat ashore from the boat in a dying state. Every thing was done for his comfort which our circumstances would permit, but the poor lad was beyond the reach of relief. He lingered in painful unconsciousness till the following morning, when he died. The body of John Chisholm was also brought on shore in the skiff, and covered with the Union Jack, until we had leisure to dig a grave. The two youths were respectfully buried on the successive afternoons, divine service being performed at their interment. They lie side by side on that desert shore where they met their fate, and their pilgrimage ceased,—where no footstep of friendship shall ever trace the unknown scene of their last repose, and only the murmurs of ocean disturb its solitary stillness.
After evening service had been conducted in the tent, we kindled a fire to preserve us from any attacks of wild beasts, and committed ourselves to rest. I enjoyed a few hours of sweet sleep that evening, for the first time after my long watching, and awoke considerably refreshed and invigorated. By four o’clock in the morning our whole party were astir, and went off in detachments at daylight, to search for water; but after wandering for two hours, in survey of all the surrounding coast, they returned, as we feared, dispirited and unsuccessful. A vegetable was found in great abundance which was full of sap, but on tasting it we discovered that it was saturated with salt, and unfit for use. The only supply which the region afforded was shell-fish, which for the same reason, with our scanty allowance of water, could only be sparingly used. The situation of our tent in the low grounds was now found to be insufferable on account of the intense heat, so that I proposed to shift it to the rising ground behind, in order to obtain a freer circulation of air. But our people were so feeble as to be unfit for the exertion, and it was only after great labour, and by bribing them with a tea-spoonful of wine, that this measure of relief was accomplished. The ladies meanwhile were employed, in preparations for our journey of the following day, by making canvass bags to hold our provisions; and the precious remainder of water was emptied from the cask into bottles and jars, so as to be easy of carriage on the road. I could only get an overhead observation for the latitude at noon, in consequence of the sun being over the land. My calculation agreed with my previous conjecture, that we were north of the Oliphant (or Elephant’s) River, about eleven miles; but as Norie’s Epitome, which was my only book of reference snatched from the burning ship, gave me no example for working such an altitude, I could not certify the accuracy of the reckoning. However, my repeated trials convinced me that I could not be more than a mile or two from the truth, and we determined, therefore, to start in that direction on the morrow, in the hope of finding some settlement on the river’s banks.
Our preparations for departure being completed, we lay down to sleep, under the same precautions as on the previous night, and were aroused at four o’clock to pursue our journey. Previous to starting, I distributed among the ladies and cabin passengers, so far as they would go, seven of my white shirts to serve as change of linen, they having been discovered in the boat on our landing. We had at this time six days’ allowance of water, at the rate of three bottles a day to our twenty-six persons, or scarcely three table-spoonfuls to each, which, in our already fevered and maddening thirst, and under a broiling tropical sun, was not nearly sufficient to sustain life. A small surplus, however, was found in the water-cask after all our bottles were filled, which was distributed among the company, and served to refresh us at departure. We broke some oars for carrying-poles, and distributed the stores among the responsible persons in the company, with strict injunctions that they should restrict themselves to the general allowance, as any breach of fidelity might sacrifice the lives of the whole party. After the celebration of divine worship, in which we committed our way to God, we set out on our melancholy journey. Our road lay before us through “a waste howling wilderness,” and we “went out, not knowing whither we went;” but our trust was in that God, “who had found Israel in a desert land, and kept him as the apple of his eye,” and we hoped that he would lead us also forth “by a right way, that we might go to a place of habitation.”