The John Williams had three boats. One after another they were launched and filled with rowers. Each boat carried a strong line with her. By these three lines the captain hoped the boats might hold the vessel against the current. The men were strong and eager to save their ship. They rowed to the seaward side of her and pulled hard at the oars. They toiled on and on till they were tired and aching, but still they lost way. Faster and faster the ship drifted towards the reef, dragging her boats after her.
Again they tried to anchor, but still no bottom could be found. Darkness fell deeper around them. Every sail was set in the hope that some breeze off the land might come in time. Blue lights were burnt on deck, that their friends on shore might know of their danger.
Thunder muttered. Flashes of lightning gleamed across the darkened sky. The white surf loomed nearer and nearer; the ship rose and fell on the backwash of the waves that broke on the reef.
Nothing could save her, but lives must be saved if possible. Seventy-two people were packed into the three boats, and very soon after the last one had left her side, the John Williams struck the reef.
Rain poured down on the open boats as they rowed sadly from the wreck. The landing-place was some miles away, and the surf was foaming wildly.
Earlier in the evening those on shore had caught sight of the blue lights. Some had run along the rocks to a point near the wreck. As they ran, the natives kept up a hooting cry that roused every one by the way. It was eerie to hear their call through the darkness and storm.
By the time the boats were trying to reach the shore, fires and torches burned brightly all round the bay to guide their rowers.
But no boat could reach the shore that night. The poor drenched voyagers had to leave their boats and get into canoes, then to leave the canoes and be carried by natives through the surf! In spite of all, they reached land safely.
But it was with sad hearts that they looked out across the bay at the wreck of their ship during the days that followed.
At last, in spite of many other delays, more than sixteen months after they had sailed from England, Mr. and Mrs. Chalmers reached the island of Rarotonga, where their home was now to be. The natives there knew a little English. As one of them carried Mr. Chalmers ashore he turned to him and asked: