The day following, preparations were made by ourselves, in connection with the natives and their dog teams, to visit the wreck. One of the first questions asked, and the principal one in which the natives were more interested than in any other, was, whether there was any rum at the wreck. A keg of spirits had been washed ashore, as before stated, and a part of it had been used, and the remainder was in the keg in the tent, stowed away with other articles from the wreck.
A difficulty was now apprehended. If the natives should find the keg of rum, and become intoxicated, as they probably would, serious and perhaps fatal consequences might take place. To avoid any fears of this sort, and remove all grounds of contention, the captain sent two of his men ahead, with orders to knock in the head of the rum keg. It was done as commanded; no further difficulty, therefore, could arise from this source.
Self-preservation prompted to this; but in a multitude of instances no less striking, where property, reputation, and even life itself are concerned, a like decision, to knock in the head of the rum keg, or break jugs and bottles, and pour the source of evil upon the ground, would be highly commendable, and fraught with the most happy results.
In due time we reached the wreck, and, as was expected, the natives began to search for spirits; but for their advantage, as well as ours, they found none. They sought every where for it, ransacked every nook and corner, hauled over wreck stuff, looked into barrels, knocked to pieces oil casks, &c., to find it, but all in vain.
It appeared, furthermore, as if the natives supposed they had a right to whatever they could lay their hands upon, and what they found among the wreck, or on shore, was a lawful prize. Several pieces of white and blue cotton cloth had washed ashore since the wreck was last visited; these the natives appropriated to their own use. A slate was found, and upon it we wrote the name of the ship, her captain, and where the crew could be found, and placed it in a prominent position near the wreck, hoping that it might possibly meet the eye of some deliverer, though an event so much desired could now hardly be expected.
The company remained in the vicinity of the wreck until towards night, and then each man took with him a bag of bread, and, with the natives and their dog teams, we left for the settlement, which was about fifteen miles distant.
It was exceedingly hard to visit the scene of our recent disaster, and behold the desolation and end of the noble ship that had withstood so many storms and weathered so many gales, but now a promiscuous mass of broken timbers, planks, and spars; besides, her cargo thrown upon the beach. If possible, it was even harder to leave what remained of her behind, and to carry away a small quantity of provisions to eke out an existence which, under the most favorable circumstances, among the natives, must be most trying and painful. And then, again, all the provisions we expected to obtain from the wreck could last us but a few months, at the longest. If our lives, therefore, should be prolonged, we saw before us the only alternative of living as the natives did, being constant spectators of their extreme filthiness in person and habits, and sharing with them in the peculiarly offensive and disgusting character and preparation of their food.
The next day, the company remained in the settlement, wearied with the labor of the preceding day, and, the greatest calamity of all, oppressed in our minds, as we contemplated the future; and as we began to realize more and more what would probably be our destination for many long months to come.
"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick;" but hope revived—when well nigh abandoned and ready to expire, like the last flickerings of the lamp—hope revived imparts new life, and sends a thrill of joy through languishing minds. Thus the weak become strong, and the disheartened are animated and encouraged to put forth more earnest efforts. Hope revived under the circumstances in which these shipwrecked mariners were placed was like the introduction of light, comfort, and home into their wintry habitations. What intelligence more to be desired and sincerely asked for than the announcement of a sail in sight?
Think of them, as brooding over their anticipated doom; settling it, or having settled it in their minds, that their abode was doubtless fixed for the present; thoughts of home now and then rushing into their minds with overwhelming force, or, it may be, with the only exception of their sleeping moments, never out of their minds; indeed, their very dreams shaded, colored, and made treacherously illusive with joyous meetings of companions, parents, relatives, and friends! Think of them at such a time as this, when the hope of deliverance had taken its lowest dip, like the wintry sun of the Arctic passing below the horizon, its light and comfort quite departing; so hope in the minds of this company of wrecked mariners had fallen beyond any reasonable expectation of deliverance.