In the Andamans and Nicobars: The Narrative of a Cruise in the Schooner "Terrapin"

by C. Boden Kloss

"The winds, therefore, bearing very hard, we rolled up the foot of our sail on a pole fastened to it, and settled our yard within 3 feet of the canoe sides, so that we had now but a small sail; yet it was still too big considering the winds, for the wind being on our broadside, pressed her down very much, though supported by her outlayers, in so much that the poles of the outlayers going from the sides of the vessel bent as if they would break; and should they have broken, our overturning and perishing had been inevitable. Besides, the sea increasing, would soon have filled the sea this way. Yet thus we made a shift to bear up with the side of the vessel against the wind for a while; but the wind still increasing about one o'clock in the afternoon, we put right away before wind and sea, continuing to run thus all the afternoon and part of the night ensuing. The wind continued increasing all the afternoon, and the sea still swelled higher, and often broke, but did us no damage; for the ends of the vessel being very narrow, he that steered received and broke the sea on his back, and so kept it from coming in so much as to endanger the vessel: though much water would come in, which we were forced to keep heaving out continually. And by this time we saw it was well we had altered our course, every wave would else have filled and sunk us, taking the side of the vessel; and though our outlayers were well lashed down to the canoe's bottom with rattans, yet they must probably have yielded to such a sea as this, when even before they were plunged under water, and bent like twigs.

"The evening of this 18th day was very dismal. The sky looked very black, being covered with dark clouds; the wind blew hard, and the seas ran high. The sea was already roaring in a white foam about us; a dark night coming on, and no land in sight to shelter us, and our little ark in danger to be swallowed by every wave; and what was worst of all, none of us thought ourselves prepared for another world. The reader may better guess than I can express, the confusion that we were all in. I had been in many eminent dangers before now, some of which I have already related, but the worst of them all was a play-game in comparison with this. I must confess I was in great conflicts of mind at this time. Other dangers came not upon me with such a leisurely and dreadful solemnity. A sudden skirmish or engagement or so was nothing when one's blood was up, and pushed forward with eager expectations. But here I had a lingering view of approaching death, and little or no hopes of escaping it; and I must confess that my courage, which I had hitherto kept up, failed me here; and I made very sad reflections of my former life, and looked back with horror and detestation on actions which before I disliked, and I now trembled at the remembrance of. I had long before this repented me of that roving course of life, but never with such concern as now. I did also call to mind many miraculous acts of God's providence towards me in the whole course of my life, of which kind I believe few men have met with the like. For all these I returned thanks in a peculiar manner, and this once more desired God's assistance, and composed my mind as well as I could in the hopes of it; and, as the event showed, I was not disappointed of my hopes.

"Submitting ourselves, therefore, to God's good providence, and taking all care we could to preserve our lives, Mr Hall and I took turns to steer, and the rest took turns to heave out the water, and thus we provided to spend the most doleful night I ever was in. About ten o'clock it began to thunder, lighten, and rain; but the rain was very welcome to us, having drank up all the water we brought from the island.

"The wind at first blew harder than before, but within half an hour it abated and become more moderate, and the sea also assuaged of its fury; and then by a lighted match, of which we kept a piece burning on purpose, we looked on our compass to see how we steered, and found our course to be still east. We had no occasion to look on the compass before, for we steered right before the wind, which if it shifted we had been obliged to have altered our course accordingly. But now it being abated, we found our vessel lively enough, with that small sail which was then aboard, to hale our former course S.S.E., which accordingly we did, being now in hopes again to get to the island Sumatra.

"But about two o'clock in the morning of the 19th day, we had another gust of wind, with much thunder, lightning, and rain, which lasted till day, and obliged us to put before the wind again, steering thus for several hours. It was very dark, and the hard rain soaked us so thoroughly that we had not one dry thread about us. The rain chilled us extremely: for any fresh water is much colder than that of the sea. For even in the coldest climates the sea is warm, and in the hottest climates the rain is cold and unwholesome for man's body. In this wet starveling plight we spent the tedious night. Never did poor mariners on a lee-shore more earnestly long for the dawning light than we did now. At length the day appeared, but with such dark black clouds near the horizon, that the first glimpse of the dawn appeared 30 or 40 degrees high, which was dreadful enough: for it is a common saying among seamen, and true, as I have experienced, that a high dawn will have high winds, and a low dawn small winds.

"We continued our course still east, before wind and sea, till about eight o'clock in the morning of the 19th day; and then one of our Malayan friends cried out, Pulo Way. Mr Hall and Ambrose and I thought the fellow had said Pull away! an expression usual among English seamen when they are rowing. And we wondered what he meant by it, till we saw him point to his consorts; and then we looking that way, saw land appearing, like an island, and all our Malayan friends said it was an island at the N.W. end of Sumatra, called Way, for Pulo Way is the island Way. We who were dropping with wet, cold, and hungry, were all overjoyed at the sight of the land, and presently marked its bearing. It bore south, and the wind was still at west, a strong gale, but the sea did not run so high as in the night. Therefore we trimmed our small sail no bigger than an apron, and steered with it. Now our outlayers did us a great kindness again, for although we had but a small sail, yet the wind was strong and pressed down our vessel's side very much. But being supported by the outlayers, we could brook it well enough, which otherwise we could not have done.

"About noon we saw more land beneath the supposed Pulo Way, and steering towards it, before night we saw the coast of Sumatra, and found the errors of our Achinese; for the high land that we first saw, which then appeared like an island, was not Pulo Way, but a great high mountain on the island Sumatra, called by the English the Golden Mountain. Our wind continued till about seven o'clock at night, then it abated, and at ten o'clock it died away; and then we stuck to our oars again, though all of us quite tired with our former fatigues and hardships.

"The next morning, being the 20th day, we saw all the low land plain, and judged ourselves not above 8 leagues off. About eight o'clock in the morning we had the wind again at west, a fresh gale, and steering in still for the shore, at five o'clock in the afternoon we run to the mouth of a river on the island Sumatra, called Passange Jonca (Pasangan River).[196] It is 34 leagues to the eastward of Achin and 6 leagues to the west of Diamond Point, which makes with three angles of a rhombus, and is low land.

"Our Malayans were very well acquainted here, and carried us to a small fishing village within a mile of the river's mouth, called also by the name of the River Passange Jonca.[197] The hardships of this voyage, with the scorching heat of the sun at our first setting-out, and the cold rain, with our continuing wet for the last two days, cast us all into fevers, so that now we were not able to help each other, nor so much as to get our canoe up to the village; but our Malayans got some of the townsmen to bring her up.... The Malayans that accompanied us from Nicobar separated themselves from us now, living at one end of the house by themselves, for they were Mahometans, as all those of the kingdom of Achin are; and though during our passage by the sea together we made them be content to drink their water out of the same coco-shell as us, yet being now no longer under that necessity, they again took up their accustomed niceness and reservedness. They all lay sick, and as their sickness increased, one of them threatened us that if any of them died, the rest would kill us for having brought them this voyage; yet I question whether they would have attempted it, or the country people have suffered it. We made a shift to dress our own food, for none of these people, though they were very kind in giving us anything that we wanted, would yet come near us to assist us in dressing our victuals. Nay, they would not touch anything that we used. We had all fevers, and therefore took turns to dress victuals according as we had strength to do it, or stomachs to eat it. I found my fever to increase, and my head so distempered that I could scarce stand; therefore I whetted and sharpened my penknife in order to let myself blood, but I could not, for my knife was too blunt.

"We stayed here ten or twelve days, in hopes to recover our health, but finding no amendment, we desired to go to Achin.... The natives ... provided a large prau to carry us thither, we not being able to manage our own canoe. Besides, before this, three of our Malayan comrades were gone very sick into the country, and only one of them and the Portuguese remained with us, accompanying us to Achin, and they both as sick as we....