The chief anxiety experienced was how to find enough to feed their guests should their stay be a long one, for this addition to their number was confessedly a tax upon them in the matter of food supplies, the islanders themselves being obliged to be careful in the use of what they had, as the island had not yet recovered from the effects of the long-continued drought of the previous years. Not a thing was saved from the ship. The heavy seas rolled over the poor vessel during the night, and by morning the gale had increased to such fury that it was hopeless to attempt a return to the ship, each oncoming wave threatening to overturn it or break it in pieces. The deepest sympathy was felt for the distressed captain and his company of officers and men, but nothing could be done to alleviate the misery of their condition.
On the second day after the ship had become a wreck, she turned over and broke up by the violence of the waves. The sea around was strewn with wreckage, which floated away to leeward. The ship’s lifeboat, uninjured, was among the things that were scattered from the ship on breaking up, and in the hope of rescuing it a crew of the islanders started to launch the captain’s gig. With brave hearts and strong arms they waited for a moment’s lull in the angry waves to give them an opportunity of getting safely over the dreadful surf that rolled ceaselessly in to shore. At last the moment came, and at the command, “Pull ahead,” with a strength that seemed more than human, the boat was got beyond the danger of the breakers, that threatened to engulf her. In due time the lifeboat was reached. Being full of water, each man took turns to bail the boat. Wind and tide being both against them, the work was exceedingly heavy, but courageous hearts and willing hands insured success, and after several hours’ hard battling with the sea, the gig and lifeboat were both landed in safety.
A sad accident occurred on shore while the men were engaged in rescuing the boat. A boy twelve years of age had, with some of his companions, gone down to the rocks near which the ship was wrecked, to get something that floated ashore. In attempting to reach his object, he was suddenly struck down by a heavy sea, and washed off into the boiling waters. The only aid that could be rendered was by means of a rope thrown to him, but before it could be brought the poor boy had sunk, bruised and killed by the wreckage that was tossing around. The poor, distracted mother witnessed the fearful scene, and in her agonizing grief made her way to the place where her boy was taken off, and would have thrown herself into the sea, as if such a sacrifice could avail to save her boy, but the arms of strong men who had followed held her back, and she was carried with great difficulty and in an unconscious state up the rocky steep to her home, where pitying friends received her and attended her through the long, dreary months of illness that followed. The father was not present when the accident took place, so word was sent to him where he was at work. He was with difficulty restrained from casting himself into the angry sea in the remote hope of finding the body of his son, but at length submitted to be led home; nor was the body ever seen again, although a search was kept up for several days.
THE MISSION HOUSE.
The American ship Dauntless had come in during the day, and Captain Wilbur waited until next morning, when, on learning what had taken place, he kindly offered to take the whole crew of the Cornwallis on his ship, and give them a passage to New York, whither he was bound. The ship was wrecked on Saturday, and by Tuesday noon all her crew had left, leaving only the poor remains of the good ship to remind the people of the sad occurrence.
The September following another shipwrecked crew was welcomed to the island. The Liverpool ship Khandeish, homeward bound from San Francisco, was wrecked on the reefs of Oeno Island, and the crew, taking with them what could be saved from the ship’s stores, and a little of their clothing, left in their big boat and gig for Pitcairn Island. The wind favoring, the short voyage was soon accomplished. As soon as the shipwrecked mariners’ boats were seen, a crew of the islanders put off in their boat—the gig that had been left by Captain Hammond, of the Cornwallis—to meet and welcome their unlooked-for visitors. When all had landed, the crew of the ship was divided into companies of twos and threes for their better accommodation amongst the families with whom they were to stay, and who all had gone down to the beach to receive them. They were made welcome to the homes of the people, and were soon like members of the families where each sojourned, taking part in the daily labors, and joining with them in their family worship, as well as attending all the religious services that were held. During their stay of fifty-one days they behaved in a way to win the approval of all, and when, on the 19th of November, they left on the British ship Ennerdale for San Francisco, the parting on both sides was expressive of much sorrow. One of the men remained behind and was shortly afterwards married to a widow to whom he had become attached.