Those who the huntsman first met endeavored to make them understand where they might find the remains of Lieutenant Dawson, and Ensign Faulkner and his party, but they could speak too vaguely of where they had themselves been, to give any pointed directions on the subject. But two of the latter were found by a man on another hunting excursion, about 90 miles distant, apparently lifeless; though on being carried to an adjacent settlement they recovered. Of the whole 35 who survived the wreck of the transport, accounts could be heard only of these five.
Ensign Faulkner was a strong, active, enterprising man, and fully capable of adopting whatever means could be devised for preservation. Both he and Lieutenant Dawson, who was scarce more than 17 years of age, were of the greatest promise. While the transport lay about three miles from Portsmouth, they are said to have swam to the ship, when the former climbed up her side, but the latter was nearly exhausted.
A brig from Port, which touched at Newfoundland, carried five of the survivors from thence to Quebec; and when they arrived there in the barrack square, a most affecting scene ensued. Men and women eagerly flocked around them, with anxious inquiries for some friend or brother who was on board the ill-fated vessel. But all they could answer was, “If you do not see him here, be assured he has perished; for, of 347 souls, we five Irish lads and two sailors are all that remain alive.” The tears and exclamations following these words can scarce be described.
THE ABSENT SHIP.
Fair ship, I saw thee bounding o’er the deep,
Thy white wings glancing in the morning ray
And many a sparkling eye in vain did weep
For the bold hearts that steer’d thee on thy way:
Long days of grief have lingered into years:
Return! return! and charm away their tears.
I listen’d till the music and the song
Died on the waters as she swept along;
I watch’d her stately beauty, till it grew
A fading shadow on the distant blue;
Less, and still less—the waters are alone!
Queen of the ocean! whither art thou gone?
The wintry storm hath sighed itself to sleep,
Yet still thou lingerest on the faithless deep;
Have calmer seas, and skies of deeper blue,
Charm’d thee to bid thine island home adieu!
Long has yon dark-eye’d maiden wept in vain:
Return! return! and bid her smile again.
Long may’st thou weep, but never shalt thou see
Thy fair-hair’d mariner return to thee,
Clasp thy young beauty in a long embrace,
And read his pardon in thy happy face;
Thy gentle prayers, fair mourner, could not save!
Thy sailor sleeps within the stormy wave.