“I rayther guess so, mister,” replied the skipper. “I rec’lect readin’, when I was a b’y, of the wreck of a big East Indyman here bound fur Bombay. She wer called the Blenden Hall, an’ I ken call to mind, though it must be nigh fifty year ago, the hull yarn as to how she wer lost.”
“Do you?” said Fritz. “I should like to hear about it.”
“Waall, here goes, I reckon. You see as how there wer several ladies aboard, an’ it wer the plight they wer put in thet made me ’member it all. It wer in the month of July thet it happen’d, an’ the vessel, as I said afore, wer bound to Bombay. The weather bein’ thick an’ the master funky about his latitudes, findin’ himself by observation near these islands, he detarmined to look for ’em, in order to get a sight of ’em an’ correct his reck’nin’. I guess he hed too much of a sight soon; fur, a thick fog shortly shut out everythin’ from gaze, an’ lookin’ over the side he found the vessel in the midst of a lot o’ floatin’ weed. The helm wer put down, but by reason of light winds and a heavy swell settin’ in to the shore, the same as you just now saw at Tristan, the shep’s head couldn’t be got to come round. Breakers were now heard ahead, so the jolly-boat wer lowered with a tow-line to heave the bows round; but it wer of no use, as the wind hed failed entirely an’ the swell was a-drivin’ the shep on to the rocks. An anchor wer then let go, but the depth of water didn’t allow it to take hold, so, they lowered the cutter to help tow the shep’s head round, along with the jolly-boat, when all of a sudden she struck. The fog wer so thick by then, thet those on board couldn’t see the boats alongside, much less the shore. Howsomedever, they cut away the masts, to ease the vessel an’ stop her grindin’ on the rocks. Soon arter this, the fog lifted when those on board were frit by seein’ right over their heads apparently, those very terrific-lookin’ cliffs you see in front, just thaar—only thet they wer close into ’em, not more nor half a cable’s length off, an’ the heavy seas, sich as you ken now see runnin’ up the face of the rocky wall thaar, wer breaking boldly right over the shep—”
“And,” interrupted Fritz, “what happened then?”
“What could you expect?” replied the skipper. “I guess she wer beaten into matchwood in five minutes; although, won’erful to say, the hull of the passengers, ladies an’ all, wer got ashore safely, only one man bein’ drowned—an’ it sarved him right, as he was one of the crew who tried to escape when the shep first struck, an’ leave all the rest to perish! They wer all got to land by a hawser rigged from a peak of projectin’ rock to a bit of the wreck; an’ the ladies, I read, mister, an’ all o’ them, lived from July to November on penguins an’ seal flesh, which they cooked in part of an iron buoy that they sawed in half fur a kittle, shelterin’ themselves from the cold in tents thet they made out of the vessel’s sails. I reckon, mister, you’ll be kinder better provided fur an’ lodged, hey?”
“Yes, thanks to your kindness,” said Fritz; “but the island seems completely encompassed by this rocky wall. I don’t see where and how we’re going to land and get our things on shore!”
“Don’t you?” chuckled the skipper. “I guess you’ll soon see how we’ll fix it.”
Presently, Fritz’s doubts were solved.
When the Pilot’s Bride had worked her way well to windward of the island, the captain fetched down towards the eastern side, where, on rounding a point, a narrow bay lay right before the ship, quite sheltered from the rough swell and wind that reigned paramount on the other side of the coast, storming and beating against the wall-like cliffs in blind fury!
Here, it was as calm as a mill pond; so, the ship was brought to an anchor right in front of a pretty little waterfall that leaped its way by a series of cascades from the cliff above to a level plateau at the base, where a narrow belt of low ground extended for about a mile in front of the bay, its seaweed face being bordered by a broad sandy beach of black sand.