CHAPTER XVIII.
WRECK of the CORNWALLIS
THE CLOSING months of 1873, and almost the entire year of 1874, was the period when, more than any other, the island suffered from the effects of drought. As ships, the only means of communication possible with the outside world, very seldom called at the island during the years that followed the arrival of both parties from Norfolk Island, the inhabitants seemed to occupy a little world entirely by themselves, and might have remained in their remote isolation for an indefinite time were it not that an unlooked-for event happened, which led to the little island’s receiving much attention from many who until now had never known of its existence, and to the reviving again of the interest shown by those who in former years proved themselves true friends.
Toward the close of January, 1875, the Liverpool ship Cornwallis, of the firm of Balfour, Williamson & Co., homeward bound from San Francisco, came in sight. The captain in his boyhood had read the story of the mutineers of the Bounty and their subsequent settlement of the isolated rock, and decided that he would make a call at the place where, just eighty-five years before, Christian and his guilty party had landed. Taking with him his apprentices, they left the ship in charge of the first officer, and came ashore in their own boat, accompanied by some of the island men who had gone off to the ship.
But a very short time had elapsed after they landed when the ship was observed to be losing her ground, and, as if impelled by some unseen power, she drifted shoreward, coming on swiftly and surely to destruction. The people on shore watched with breathless anxiety and terror the doomed ship, and earnest but unavailing prayers went up that the fearful catastrophe might be averted. The poor captain, half frantic, rushed with his young men and all the island men that were within call, to the landing place, to launch the boat and put off to the vessel, that was every moment nearing the rocks. But no effort could save her, and she soon struck on some unseen rocks a few feet from the shore. Had there been ten minutes more time, she would have been saved, as the water clear to the shore is very deep, and a few minutes more would have sufficed to steer the ship clear of danger.
A few of the islanders that had remained on the ship when the boat first went off, terrified beyond control at the approaching shipwreck, now hastily got into their boat and started for the shore. Meeting the captain’s boat returning, they also went back to where the ship now lay, a helpless wreck. The excitement that prevailed was great, and soon everybody was near the scene of the disaster. The other men that had been engaged about their several duties when the disaster took place, now returned from the fields, and, seeing what had happened, were quickly on the rocks near where the ship lay. Swimming off to the vessel, they were soon engaged with the others who had been before them in rendering what assistance they were able, and in a short time after the ship struck, all the crew had been safely landed.
Little else was saved. The mate wished to make a return trip to the vessel in spite of the wind, that was now increasing into a gale, and at the cry, “Who will volunteer?” a ready response was given, but the darkness coming on, and the threatening weather, made it advisable to delay the effort until the next morning. The boat was once more drawn up to a place of safety, and in the gloomy darkness, with feelings still more gloomy, the captain and crew of the Cornwallis, accompanied by the islanders, men, women, and children, formed a silent procession up the steep hill path that led to the village. All that could be done for the strangers thus unexpectedly thrown amongst them was done as well as their limited means afforded, and everyone willingly gave up sleeping rooms to the shipwrecked men during their enforced stay, being content that their unexpected guests should enjoy whatever could be provided for their comfort.