— Kipling.
It may be of interest to recount here the story of the Chieftain's mishap, which was the worst accident of the year.
The Chieftain was one of the Dundee whaling fleet. When we left she was fitting out for the Greenland sealing and bottlenose whaling.
Leaving Dundee on March 6th, under the command of Captain Gellatley, she lost four of her boats, on May 26th, in a fog.
These made their way to Iceland. One, in charge of the captain, landed at Primness. A second, in charge of Alex. Bain, a harpooner, arrived at Tonsberg, having lost overboard her boat-steerer, David Buchan. A third landed at Ramfarhofu with all alive. The fourth was picked up, and in her there was but one survivor. When this boat left the ship there were three men in her. One died and was duly committed to the deep; another fell into a lethargy which continued so long that McIntosh, the survivor, though hardly able to move his benumbed legs, crawled to the bow of the boat to find out what was the trouble, but found him dead.
Fearing lest he might yield to the temptation of using the body for food, by a great effort he succeeded in heaving it overboard. The boat was picked up on the fourteenth day off the Iceland coast by a passing ship; but McIntosh was compelled to have both legs amputated as mortification had set in. It is terrible to think of what this brave fellow must have endured drifting about in a small boat over this lonely and stormy sea, half frozen and with hardly any food.
The following is the account given by Captain Gellatley of the cause of the accident, and of his experiences during the awful trip to Iceland.
A school of whales was observed on Monday, 26th of May, and the afternoon being fine, four boats went out in pursuit—one under the command of Captain Gellatley; the second under the charge of Thomas Elder, the second mate; John Taylor, specksioneer, was in charge of the third; and Alexander Bain, harpooner, of the fourth.
In the course of a short time the captain's boat got fast to a whale, and also the specksioneer's. The second mate assisted the captain. After some time the whale was killed and towed to the ship, which was reached about three o'clock in the morning. By this time a dense fog had settled down, and after his crew had breakfasted, Captain Gellatley set out to look for the three boats, giving directions that if the fog continued the vessel should be kept in her position, so as to enable them to find her; but that she was to bear down towards the boats if the mist lifted. Knowing the bearings of the boats, Captain Gellatley came up to them after rowing for fully two hours, and found that the whale was still alive and causing great trouble. Three additional harpoons were fired into it, and in the course of the forenoon it was killed, and the four boats started in the direction of the ship with the whale in tow. In the meantime the weather cleared, and the ship was descried at a distance of about five miles; but in the course of half an hour the fog again came down, and it was so dense that it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. Though they pulled from half past ten o'clock in the forenoon until half past four in the afternoon they failed to find the Chieftain, and no answering signals were returned to their blasts of fog horns. It was then resolved that one of the boats should proceed eastwards and another westwards for some distance, but they returned without having been able to discover the whereabouts of the ship, notwithstanding the most diligent search. At one time a sound like a whistle was heard in one direction and again in another, and the men got utterly fatigued by their protracted search, a fresh breeze springing up and adding to their discomfort. About eight o'clock in the evening a number of the men confidently declared that they heard a ship's whistle sounding in a northeasterly direction, and the second mate was sent away in the hope of finding the ship. Some time later Captain Grellatley decided to follow in the same direction, and accordingly the whale was buoyed and a lance with a handkerchief tied to the end of the handle was stuck into the carcass for identification. The three boats then followed in the course taken by the second mate, but they could never catch up to him, though they repeatedly heard the blast of his fog horn. Throughout the night the search was continued without success, and on the morning of the 28th, the crews being fatigued, the three boats were made fast to one another and a deep sea anchor thrown out for the purpose of stopping their way and allowing the men to rest. In the course of the morning James Cairns, an ordinary seaman, accidentally fell overboard, but he was promptly rescued. On the 28th matters began to assume a serious aspect. The crews had then been two days absent from the ship, and their slender stock of food—a small keg of provisions and a six pound tin of preserved meat in each boat—had become exhausted. In consequence of their privations the men became affected with stupor, and with the view of dispelling this the captain ordered the anchor to be hauled in and the boats to be rowed towards the ice. This exercise had a beneficial effect, and it seemed as if it were to result in a happy rescue, for a barque was noticed sailing away to the windward. Signals were made in the hope of attracting attention, but the crews were doomed to disappointment, the fog, which had temporarily cleared, having again fallen and obscured everything from sight. The weather, too, became boisterous, and the boats were in imminent danger of being crushed by the ice. To save the boats from destruction it was found necessary to row out from under the lee of the floes, and during this time Captain Gellatley narrowly escaped being drowned. Whale-boats are all steered by an oar, and while the captain was steering, his oar was struck by a wave and he was knocked overboard. Fortunately he was rescued before he had been long in the water, but he suffered much from having to remain in his wet clothes during the remainder of the time he was in the boat. All the men were by this time complaining of the benumbed condition of their hands and feet, and by the morning of Friday, 30th, it was hardly possible to keep them awake. That morning the wind shifted to the westward, and as all hope of falling in with the Chieftain had been given up, it was decided, as the only chance of saving their lives, to endeavor to sail to Iceland, which was calculated to be about two hundred miles distant. Each of the boats possessed a compass, but there was neither mast nor sail, and in their place a couple of boat-hooks were erected by way of a mast, with the ramrod of the gun as a yard, and the line cover, a piece of canvas about five feet by three feet, had to do duty as a sail. Thus equipped, and with a supply of frozen snow and pieces of ice to quench their thirst, the crews of the three boats set out on their perilous journey, the master giving the directions for steering. They left the ice about five o'clock in the morning, and were soon scudding along at a rapid rate, there being a strong breeze blowing. About eight o'clock the boat which was in advance was seen to shorten sail, and when the captain came up he was informed that David Buchan, while steering, had been knocked overboard and drowned. An attempt was then made to tow this boat; but the sea was running so high that this jeopardized both. It soon became apparent that the boats would be swamped if they continued in tow, and the captain was obliged to cast the second one adrift, telling the crew they must either hoist sails and make for Iceland along with him or run back for the ice. They preferred to hold on their course, and the sail was again hoisted. The weather continued moderate until between four and five o'clock in the afternoon, when it shifted to the northward and began to blow hard. A heavy sea arose, and through the night it was with the utmost difficulty that the captain kept his boat afloat. At times she was nearly filled, and the men had to keep almost constantly bailing out the water. The stormy weather continued throughout the whole of Friday night and Saturday, and it was found necessary to throw the whale lines overboard to lighten the boat. In the meantime the condition of the men was becoming more and more alarming, and the captain was forced to employ various devices to prevent them from falling into a state of stupor, which would soon have proved fatal. To use the oars was an impossibility on account of the heavy seas and the rate at which the boat was sailing, and accordingly the captain persuaded the men to hold up their oars by way of exercise. This had the desired effect for some time, but by Sunday morning, the fourth day they had been without food, they were all ready to give up in despair. Captain Gellatley had been steering constantly from Friday morning till Sunday morning, and the fatigue, combined with the privations he endured in common with his crew, began to tell severely upon him. Only those who have had to steer such a boat in a seaway can understand the irksome and laborious nature of the work, and to this must be added the fact that he had to sit in a cramped position the whole time, his legs being bent under him. The captain stated that a peculiar sensation came over him, a haze gathered before his eyes, and an attack of dizziness obliged him to call the boatswain to take his place. After a brief space the boatswain, who was almost prostrated, had to relinquish the task, and the boat was then hove to, and a deep sea anchor, made up of a grappling iron and other articles, was thrown out, with fifty fathoms of line, by which means the boat's head was kept towards the sea. The weather was then moderating, but the waves continued to break over the boat, and it was as much as the men could do to keep her afloat. A few hours later and the gale sprang up afresh, and as there were still no signs of land, the crew resigned themselves to the fate which they deemed to be inevitable. From this state of despair they were ultimately aroused by the news that the land and a schooner were in sight, the sailmaker being the first to make the joyful announcement. This intelligence reanimated the despairing men, and signals were made to the schooner, but without succeeding in attracting the attention of the crew. A direct course was then steered for the land, but owing to the gale ten hours elapsed before it was reached. A new difficulty was then encountered, there being no visible landing-place along that rock-bound coast. A number of the islanders, however, had noticed the boat, and by means of signs they directed the crew to steer for the only available landing-place, a narrow passage with perpendicular rocks on either side, and a horizontal rock forming a sort of bar. The tide was then ebbing, but under the guidance of Captain Gellatley, the boat was safely steered into the narrow harbor. By the assistance of the islanders the crew, who had almost lost the power of their legs, were take to a farmer's hut adjoining, where they were hospitably entertained with such cheer as the house afforded; and the black bread and whale blubber which were set out before them proved a feast to the famishing sailors. The point at which they landed was Brimness, about ten miles distant from Langanaes, and after they had recovered somewhat the islanders made arrangements for transporting them on horseback to the nearest port. However, the Norwegian smack, Jemima, of Elekkefjord, hove in sight, and on being signalled, the captain, Bernard Olsen, readily agreed to take the crew to Seydisfjord, where a steamer was shortly to sail for Scotland. On their arrival at Seydisfjord on the 8th of June, the governor had them conveyed to a hotel, and a messenger was dispatched for a doctor, who arrived in the course of two days, his journey requiring twenty-four hours to accomplish. Under his treatment Captain Gellatley and his crew made a satisfactory recovery, and on the 12th they left Seydisfjord on board the mail steamer Thym, for Granton.