The boat leaked from the beginning, and the sailors by turns baled the water out in little cans. Exposed to the glare of a tropical sun for hours together, nearly mad with thirst, bearing her child in her weak arms, for she was too much exhausted to stand, Mrs. Murray says that often she would sit for hours without any thought at all, vacantly gazing on the ocean.
“We had,” says she, “three days of dead calm. The sun glared down upon us pitilessly, and I thought how pleasant it would be to throw myself into the sea, and sink calmly to death beneath its waves. I lost all wish to live—for life seemed horrible. I cannot describe the days as they passed separately, one by one; when I look back upon them, they all seem to have been one misery. I remember that on the third day out poor Kitty’s baby died—indeed, it had been dying from the first. It never had a chance of living, for it had no fit attention and no sustenance. The poor mother cried bitterly when at last it became cold on her bosom, but its death was a merciful release. Wrapped in a shawl of bright colours, it was thrown overboard, but was so light that it could not sink, and floated for hours on a sea so calm in the hot sun that scarce a ripple could be seen. At last it disappeared suddenly, the prey of some hungry shark, and when afterwards the horrid monsters crowded round our boat they added to our misery. Hitherto the children had been plunged into the sea every morning to preserve them in health, but we dared not continue this practice with those horrid creatures on our lee.... I must not forget one incident, trifling in itself, but which might have caused the death of one of the sailors. On the day of the wreck I had caused two or three bottles of ale and one of claret to be put in the boat, thinking it might be of great use to us. On the third or fourth night out, when we were shivering helplessly after a drenching [pg 60]shower of rain, we thought that a bottle of ale should be opened for the women and children, but not a bottle of any sort was to be found.” The rage of the captain was awful, and but for the intercession of the ladies, he swore that he would have thrown the man overboard.
It was on the morning of the tenth day that the frightful thought of eating the children came into the heads of three or four desperate men, and the captain and a few trustworthy companions had made up their minds to slay the would-be murderers that very night in their sleep. The last and fatal hour of their great agony seemed to be come. On the morning of the tenth day a sail was reported, and a white towel hoisted to attract her attention. She came near enough for the captain to make out that she carried the Hamburg flag, and then “passed by on the other side.” Curses loud and deep came from the sailors’ lips. Then the women looked into each other’s faces and the children cried, and the wolfish eyes of the would-be cannibals were again fixed upon them.
But Heaven was merciful, and again a sail was reported. Nearer and nearer she came, faster rowed the hungry sailors, when there rose a wild shout, “She has stopped!” and surely there she was at rest in the water, waiting to see what manner of beings they were. “Row faster, my men, and keep down the women and children,” sang out the [pg 61]captain, for he was fearful that if their number was discovered the vessel might pass them, as had that seen in the morning.
“Oh, what a lovely afternoon,” says Mrs. Murray, “that was when we were saved—such a blaze of sunshine, such blue skies, such a glistening, glowing sea, as if even the treacherous ocean were rejoicing with us. At length we were close alongside of the ship, and saw crowds of human beings clustering about to look at us—dark, swarthy faces, for they were all Spaniards, but full of pity, wonderment, and horror. They took us all in, one by one, and when they saw the women and little children they wept. They could not speak our language, and looked upon us with bewilderment, but when I (who fortunately could speak Spanish), kneeling down on deck, said ‘Gracias a Dios’ (Thank God), their tongues were loosened, and there was a flood of questions and crowding round us, with weeping and laughing and shaking of hands. How good were those kind-hearted men! How I thank them all, every one, now as I write, from the worthy captain down to the lowest of his crew. And they brought us bread and wine and water—precious water, how good it was!”
A few of Mrs. Brassey’s experiences on her husband’s yacht will be read with interest. One day, after their five o’clock dinner, she and some of her children very nearly met with a most serious accident. “We were all sitting,” writes that lady, “or standing about the stern of the vessel, admiring the magnificent dark blue billows following us, with their curling white crests mountains high. Each wave, as it approached, appeared as if it must overwhelm us, instead of which it rushed grandly by, rolling and shaking us from stem to stern, and sending fountains of spray on board.... A new hand was steering, and just at the moment when an unusually big wave overtook us he unfortunately allowed the vessel to broach to a little. In a second the sea came pouring over the stern, above Allnut’s head. The boy was nearly washed overboard, but he managed to catch hold of the rail, and with great presence of mind stuck his knees into the bulwarks. Kindred, our boatswain, seeing his danger, rushed forward to save him, but was knocked down by the return wave, from which he emerged gasping.
“The coil of rope on which Captain Lecky and Mabelle were seated was completely floated by the sea. Providentially, however, he had taken a double turn round his wrist with a reefing point, and, throwing his other arm round Mabelle, held on like grim death; otherwise, nothing could have saved them. She was perfectly self-possessed, and only said quietly, ‘Hold on, Captain Lecky, hold on!’ to which he replied, ‘All right.’ I asked her afterwards if she thought she was going overboard, and she answered, ‘I did not think at all, mamma, but felt sure we were gone.’ Captain Lecky, being accustomed to very large ships, had not in the least realised how near we were to the water in our little vessel, and was proportionately taken by surprise. All the rest of the party were drenched, with the exception of Muriel, whom Captain Brown held high above the water in his arms, and who lost no time in remarking, in the midst of the general confusion ‘I’m not at all wet, I’m not!’ Happily, the children don’t know what fear is. The maids, however, were very frightened, as some of the sea had got down into the nursery, and the skylights had to be screwed down. Our studding-sail-boom, too, broke with a loud crack when the ship broached to, and the jaws of the fore-boom gave way.
“Soon after this adventure we all went to bed, full of thankfulness that it had ended as well as it did; but also not, so far as I am concerned, to rest in peace. In about two hours I was awakened by a tremendous weight of water suddenly descending upon me and flooding the bed. I immediately sprang out, only to find myself in another pool on the floor. It was pitch dark, and I could not think what had happened; so I rushed on deck, and found that, the weather having moderated a little, some kind sailor, knowing my love of fresh air, had opened the skylight rather too soon, and one of the angry waves had popped on board, deluging the cabin.”
The Sunbeam encountered a wreck, and the account given of its inspection will be read with interest. Mrs. Brassey says:—“When I went on deck, at half-past six, I found a grey, steamy, calm morning, promising a very hot day, without wind.
“About 10.30 a.m. the cry of ‘Sail on the port helm!’ caused general excitement, and in a few minutes every telescope and glass in the ship had been brought to bear upon the object which attracted our attention, and which was soon pronounced to be a wreck. Orders were given to starboard the helm and to steer direct for the vessel; and many were the conjectures hazarded and the questions asked of the fortunate holders of glasses. ‘What is she?’ ‘Is there any one on board?’ ‘Does she look as if she had been long abandoned?’ Soon we were near enough to send a boat’s crew on board, whilst we watched their movements anxiously from the bridge. We could now read her name—the Carolina—surmounted by a gorgeous yellow decoration on her stern. She was of between two and three hundred tons burden, and was painted a light blue with a red streak. Beneath her white bowsprit the gaudy image of a woman served as a figure-head. The two masts had been snapped short off about three feet from the deck, and the bulwarks were gone, only the covering board and stanchions remaining, so that each wave washed over and through her. The roof and supports of the deck-house and the companions were still left standing, but the sides had disappeared, and the ship’s deck was burst up in such a manner as to remind one of a quail’s back.... We saw the men on board poking about, apparently very pleased with what they had found; and soon our boat returned to the yacht for some breakers, as the Carolina had been laden with port wine and cork, and the men wished to bring some of the former on board. I changed my dress, and putting on my sea-boots, started for the wreck.