Life and Adventure in the South Pacific

by John D. Jones

On Thursday, September 26th, we picked up part of a ship’s topmast, and, on sighting Sydenham’s Island, discovered the hull of a vessel fast ashore on the reef, with her lower masts standing. Our captain intended to take a boat and ascertain something in regard to this ill-fated vessel, but the wind died away before we approached within a proper distance, and the current soon drifted us far away.

The next day we spoke the “Boy,” of Warren, Captain Luce. From him we ascertained the vessel ashore at Sydenham’s to be the bark “Flying Fox,” of Hobarton, Van Diemen’s Land, Captain Brown, who, with his lady, and several of the officers and crew, were on board the “Boy.” It appears, by the captain’s statement, that on the morning of the 25th they were sailing along with a fine breeze, all sail set, when they were suddenly startled by the ship striking a reef which projected two or three miles from the island, and was not laid down on the charts. The topmasts were all carried away by the shock; the ship was fast on the reef; and, had there been a heavy swell, she would have gone to pieces immediately. As all hopes of saving the ship were at an end, on seeing their situation they took to their boats as soon as possible. Already were the decks crowded with natives, who had begun the work of plunder, helping themselves to whatever they wished. They obtained possession of the spades, and were ready and willing to fight, if necessary. The captain had to work very cautiously to get his wife into the boat without being seen by the natives; and, closely veiled, she was placed in the boat, choosing the mercy of the winds and waves rather than that of a barbarous set of cannibals, in whose hands she would have suffered worse than death.

The next day, the boat containing the captain and lady, with some of the crew, were picked up by the “Boy.” The remainder of the crew, it was supposed, had gone to Woodle’s or Simpson’s Island. The captain of the “Boy,” on learning the particulars of the sad accident, proceeded immediately to the wreck; but the natives had not been idle; they had carried off every thing of value, and that which they valued not had been destroyed by them. The water and oil casks had been stove for the sake of the iron hoops which bound them.

On Thursday, October 3d, we traded with the natives of Hall’s Island. Cocoanut oil is the principal trade brought off here. The natives on the islands north of the equator look much better than those of the same group situated south of it.

We were now getting short of water, and the captain determined to land a raft of casks at Pitt’s Island, leave them for the natives to fill, and return for them in a few days. Accordingly, on the 16th, we sent a raft ashore, three boats towing it. We had now been out of port nearly seven months, and most of the crew were becoming discontented—thought it was about time they had a run ashore, etc.; and some of them expressed the determination to have it, if the opportunity offered, at Pitt’s Island. The officers having charge of the boats were ordered not to land, but to deliver the raft to the natives and return immediately to the ship. The third mate, however, who was one of the disaffected, instead of doing this, pulled close in shore, and told his men, if they wished, they could go; he should not hinder them. Two of them immediately jumped out of the boat and went ashore; the boats returned to the ship; and the captain and third mate had some rather plain conversation in regard to the affair. It ended, however, in the old man’s leaving a reward for them, and we made sail.

We took from this island a noble-looking, fine-built native, who is a chief of some importance; but he wished to try his hand at whaling, as near as we could understand by his signs, for he could speak but little English. The captain bestowed upon him the name of Friday, which suited him just as well as any other. He soon became a general favorite with all hands, was very good-natured, quick to learn, as spry as a cat, and as strong as a giant.

We visited the island again on Tuesday, the 22d, for our raft of water. We there learned that the two deserters had sailed in the bark “Belle,” for Sydney, the day previous.

An amusing little incident, common to whaling, but still enough of interest to make it worth relating, occurred on Saturday, 16th of November. The waist-boat had fastened to a cow whale, and were going along very smoothly, when she suddenly sounded, and, by some means, drew the bow of the boat down with her sufficient to “end it over,” and spill out the whole crew very unexpectedly. It happened that two of the men were unable to swim, and, strange as it may appear, they were the first to scramble on to the bottom of the boat (which was upset), and that without wetting a hair of their head; and so anxious were they to keep dry, that they kept the boat rolling over and over, they meanwhile scrambling in the most ludicrous manner. After a little time, and partly by the threats of the second mate and their own fears, they became quiet, and remained so until they were picked up. The whale was killed by one of the other boats, and was soon cut in and tried out.

Monday, November 18th, was a very clear and calm day, not a breath of air stirring, and “old Jamaica” coming down with a vengeance. At daylight the look-out from masthead raised a sail a long distance off. About 1 P.M., “Boat ho!” was the cry, and it proved to be a boat pulling to us from the ship in the distance. About 3 they came alongside, and reported themselves to be from the ship “Hector,” of New Bedford, Captain Smith. They had pulled about sixteen miles, under the scorching sun of the equator, with not a breath of air stirring, merely to ascertain if we had letters for them. They were about three years out, and had heard that we were on the cruising-ground, and on raising us that morning hoped it might prove to be the “Emily Morgan;” and such was their anxiety for letters from their friends at home that they gladly pulled this long distance. We were glad that their labor met with its reward, for they received a large package, and soon forgot their fatigue amid the excitement incident to receiving news after so long an absence. About 5 P.M. a light breeze sprung up, and they left us in high spirits.

As we were cruising along on Wednesday, November 19th, with no land in sight, we saw a large canoe, which appeared at the mercy of winds and waves. We immediately bore down to it, and found that it contained twenty-two natives in a starving condition. We lowered a boat, towed them to the ship, and found them so much reduced as to be hardly able to speak, and could get them in on deck only by slinging them in a “boatswain’s chair” and hoisting them in. The canoe was cut adrift after taking out and sinking the dead body of a boy, apparently about fourteen, which it contained. Some of them presented a wretched and distressing appearance; they were nothing but skin and bones, and scarcely that. In several cases the skin on the joints was broken, and the bones had worked through. We went to work and cleared out the “blubber-room,” and by spreading mats around made it very comfortable for them. Their constant cry was “Ki ki” (eat). We prepared some farina, and fed them cautiously; but they acted more like a pack of ravenous wolves than like human beings. By the aid of Friday, our Pitt’s Island native, we learned the following particulars: They left their island (Charlotte’s) for another on account of the war raging there, but lost their reckoning, and the current, which sets very strongly to the northwest, swept them off. They had been so drifting for six weeks, and during that time had no food except a shark, which they captured. Four of their number had died, two men and two children. Seven of them were females, two of whom had nursing infants. The poor creatures would fall into a short slumber, and awake crying for food. It was truly a heart-rending sight, but we felt assured every thing that could be had been done to render them comfortable. They endeavored, too, to express their heartfelt gratitude to us by signs, and would cry, “Mortarkee kiabuka” (good ship). As we were near Pleasant Island, the captain determined to land them there.