By sunrise the next morning, July 3, they judged that they had been running E. S. E. which was contrary to their wishes. The wind dying away, the weather became very moderate. The compass which they had saved proved of no utility, one of the people having trod upon, and broken it; it was accordingly thrown overboard. They now proposed to make a sail of some frocks and trowsers, but they had got neither needles nor sewing twine, one of the people however, had a needle in his knife, and another several fishing lines in his pockets, which were unlaid by some, and others were employed in ripping the frocks and trowsers. By sunset they had provided a tolerable lug-sail; having split one of the boat’s thwarts, (which was of yellow deal,) with a very large knife, which one of the crew had in his pocket, they made a yard and lashed it together by the strands of the fore-top-gallant-halyards, that were thrown into the boat promiscuously.—They also made a mast of one of the long oars, and set their sails, with sheets and tacks made out of the top-gallant-halyards. Their only guide was the North star. They had a tolerable good breeze all night; and the whole of the next day, July 4, the weather continued very moderate, and the people were in as good spirits as their dreadful situation would admit.
July 5, the wind and weather continued much the same, and they knew by the North star that they were standing in for the land. The next day Mr. Purnell observed some of the men drinking salt water, and seeming rather fatigued.—At this time they imagined the wind was got round to the southward, and they steered, as they thought by the North star, to the northwest quarter; but on the 7th, they found the wind had got back to the northward, and blew very fresh. They got their oars out the greatest part of the night, and the next day the wind still dying away, the people laboured alternately at the oars, without distinction. About noon the wind sprung up so that they laid in their oars, and, as they thought, steered about N. N. W. and continued so until about eight or nine in the morning of July 9, when they all thought they were upon soundings, by the coldness of the water.—They were, in general, in very good spirits. The weather continued still thick and hazy, and by the North star, they found that they had been steering about N. by W.
July 10.—The people had drank so much salt water, that it came from them as clear as it was before they drank it; and Mr. Purnell perceived that the second mate had lost a considerable share of his strength and spirits; and also, at noon, that the carpenter was delirious, his malady increasing every hour; about dusk he had almost overset the boat, by attempting to throw himself overboard, and otherwise behaving quite violent.
As his strength, however, failed him, he became more manageable, and they got him to lie down in the middle of the boat, among some of the people. Mr. Purnell drank once a little salt water, but could not relish it; he preferred his own urine, which he drank occasionally as he made it. Soon after sunset the second mate lost his speech. Mr. Purnell desired him to lean his head on him; he died, without a groan or struggle, on the 11th of July, being the 9th day they were in the boat. In a few minutes after, the carpenter expired almost in a similar manner. These melancholy scenes rendered the situation of the survivors more dreadful; it is impossible to describe their feelings. Despair became general; every man imagined his own dissolution was near. They all now went to prayers; some prayed in the Welch language, some in Irish, and others in English; then, after a little deliberation, they stripped the two dead men, and hove them overboard.
The weather being now very mild, and almost calm, they turned to, cleaned the boat, and resolved to make their sail larger out of the frocks and trowsers of the two deceased men. Purnell got the captain to lie down with the rest of the people, the boatswain and one man excepted, who assisted him in making the sail larger, which they had completed by six or seven o’clock in the afternoon, having made a shroud out of the boat’s painter, which served as a shifting back-stay.—Purnell also fixed his red flannel waistcoat at the mast-head, as a signal the most likely to be seen.
Soon after this some of them observed a sloop at a great distance, coming, as they thought, from the land. This roused every man’s spirits; they got out their oars, at which they laboured alternately, exerting all their remaining strength to come up with her; but night coming on, and the sloop getting a fresh breeze of wind, they lost sight of her, which occasioned a general consternation; however, the appearance of the North star, which they kept on their starboard-bow, gave them hopes that they stood in for land. This night one William Wathing died; he was 64 years of age, and had been to sea 50 years; quite worn out with fatigue and hunger, he earnestly prayed, to the last moment, for a drop of water to cool his tongue. Early the next morning Hugh Williams also died, and in the course of the day another of the crew: entirely exhausted,—they both expired without a groan.
Early in the morning of July 13, it began to blow very fresh, and increased so much, that they were obliged to furl their sail, and keep the boat before the wind and sea, which drove them off soundings. In the evening their gunner died. The weather now becoming moderate and the wind in the S. W. quarter, they made sail, not one being able to row or pull an oar at any rate; they ran all this night with a fine breeze.
The next morning (July 14) two more of the crew died, and in the evening they also lost the same number. They found they were on soundings again, and concluded the wind had got round to the N. W. quarter. They stood in for the land all this night, and early on July 12 two others died; the deceased were thrown overboard as soon as their breath had departed. The weather was now thick and hazy, and they were still certain that they were on soundings.
The cabin-boy was seldom required to do any thing, and as his intellects, at this time, were very good, and his understanding clear, it was the opinion of Mr. Purnell that he would survive them all, but he prudently kept his thoughts to himself. The captain seemed likewise tolerably well, and to have kept up his spirits. On account of the haziness of the weather, they could not so well know how they steered in the day time as at night; for, whenever the North star appeared, they endeavored to keep it on their starboard bow, by which means they were certain of making the land some time or other. In the evening two more of the crew died, also, before sunset, one Thomas Philpot, an old experienced seaman, and very strong; he departed rather convulsed; having latterly lost the power of articulation, his meaning could not be comprehended. He was a native of Belfast, Ireland, and had no family. The survivors found it a difficult task to heave his body overboard, as he was a very corpulent man.
About six or seven the next morning, July 16, they stood in for the land, according to the best of their judgment, the weather still thick and hazy. Purnell now prevailed upon the captain and boatswain of the boat to lie down in the fore-part of the boat, to bring her more by the head, in order to make her hold a better wind. In the evening the cabin-boy, who lately appeared so well, breathed his last, leaving behind, the captain, the boatswain and Mr. Purnell.