A detachment of one sergeant, one corporal, and twenty-six privates, with four women and nine children, embarked at Woolwich on the 3rd April, 1849, on board the brig ‘Richard Dart,’ for New Zealand, under the command of Lieutenant Liddell, R.E. The ship sailed from Gravesend on the 5th April, and made a pleasant voyage until the 15th June, when, to the southward of the Cape of Good Hope, foggy and rainy weather set in, which continuing till the 19th, the ship was carried to the north side of Prince Edward’s Island and struck on the rocks. The waves at the time ran high, and within a few short minutes, the stern cabin-windows were stove in, the boats were filled and torn from the quarter, and while the vessel, beaten by a raging sea fell to pieces, wave after wave swept the decks and rigging and carried forty-seven of the crew and passengers into the deep. Of this number twenty-four men belonged to the detachment of sappers, who, with all their wives and children, and Lieutenant Liddell, perished.
Eleven souls only out of sixty-three were saved. Among those who escaped were the captain of the ship—Samuel Potter—and four sappers, named Thomas Inglis, Owen Devany, James Reid and William Goldsmith. They took refuge in the mainmast rigging; and the wreck, having been driven broadside to the shore, the mainmast went by the board, falling fortunately upon the rock, and the survivors crawled along the shaking spar to the shore. The rocks being exceedingly steep and difficult of access, the men had to undergo much labour and fatigue in reaching the summit of the cliff, occasionally hanging on by fragile sea-weeds and every now and then throwing themselves into crevices to prevent the receding surge drawing them into the sea. Most of the party were barefoot and thinly clad. The night was cold; the snow fell fast and thick, and beating upon their drenched and shivering frames, their sufferings may possibly be imagined but never adequately described.
The island was a mass of black rocks, torn by volcanic violence, and wore an aspect of wild and sterile desolation. Selecting a small green spot where fresh water was found, they made it a temporary residence, and built with the wood recovered from the wreck and some sods, a small hut, which sheltered them in a measure from the bitter wind and frost. A few sperm candles and some blankets, washed from the wreck, were all that could be found to reward their anxious exertions. No provisions of any kind could be picked up; but at length, when forced by hunger, they killed some young albatrosses and fed sparingly on the raw flesh. The candles in this extremity became savoury morsels and were devoured with considerable relish. As they were without fire, or the means of procuring any to assuage the bitterness of their distress, they determined, on the seventh day of their deliverance, to explore the island and see what Providence might turn up to their hopes.
Two of the men, from being frostbitten and cut in the feet, were unable to walk. The remaining nine, therefore, started, leaving a stock of raw meat with the two sick sappers, who laid themselves down on the cold ground only to feel the increase of pangs which the presence even of a spark of fire would have helped to soften. Without a cheering ray to palliate their wretchedness, with the nipping frost gnawing their reeking wounds, they gave themselves up to the destiny which seemed to await them. Hourly the toils and miseries of the adventurers increased. After travelling all day, sometimes over high hills covered with sharp vitrified cinders, sometimes on marshy ground up to their hips in bog, they stopped for the night by the side of a frowning rock. The rain poured in torrents; shelter could not be found; no expedient for kindling a flame succeeded; and in this deplorable condition they sat down on the charred ground, huddled together to preserve some little warmth among them, exposed throughout the night to the drenching storm, covered only by their blankets.
Next morning, resuming their travels, they gained a beach where four sea-elephants were lying basking in the sun, for the day opened with a cheering summer’s warmth. Two of the monsters they killed, but made no use of them. Here the travellers waited for a few days to recruit their strength. The place was called “Double Beach,” but no fissure or cavity could be found to hide them from the winds and rains; and so night after night, rolling themselves up in their blankets, they slept in the open air. After a few days, private Reid, with some others, returned to the first location to visit the invalids. Private Goldsmith—a mere lad, slim and weakly by nature—was much worse; his frame was frightfully emaciated, his agony intense, and his toes were sloughing with gangrene; but private Devany—constitutionally stout and strong—was improving though unable to walk. Three days they remained with their sick comrades to encourage and cheer them with a narrative of their proceedings and a recital of their hopes; and on the 1st July they again repaired to Double Beach, leaving with the sick men the raw flesh of six birds, equal to a week’s provisions. Devany was most assiduous in his attentions to the dying man, and to save his poor mouth from the exertion of mastication, tore up the uncooked flesh into small pieces, and fed him. But the time came when he was no longer able to receive the morsels—the last struggle was upon him—and he closed his eyes for ever.
A snow-storm now set in, which lasted all night and throughout the day of the 2nd. Raw flesh was their only repast, and of this, from the want of powder and gun, they could not obtain a sufficiency to sustain their strength. Weak and attenuated, and completely benumbed by exposure to frost and snow, but little could be done in the way of exploration. Nevertheless they lagged on in their desperate mission, like men contending against some crushing adversity, determined to win. Crusoes they could not hope to be in such a clime and such a barren sea-holm; but whatever was practicable to their ingenuity and strength, they adapted to their use to support life till deliverance gave them succour.
The night of the 2nd July was still more severe in its effects upon the spirits and constitutions of the party, and the rain poured on them incessantly. Miserable nights were these to spend their vigils. Up, however, they rose with the returning dawn—stiff and aching in every limb; then wringing the wet from their stanched blankets, and feasting upon the raw breast of an albatross, journeyed on to seek a retreat from the recurring storms. On the 3rd, private Inglis discovered a cave close to the shore, whither the party joyfully repaired; and as the day was fine, they dried their dripping clothes and blankets. Meanwhile, watching from their lairs upon the passing birds, they brought down eighteen from the wing to replenish their impoverished game store. Stones they threw as if fired from rifles and used sticks with an address not inferior to Kaffirs. Necessity indeed was indulgent to give certainty to the primitive means they employed to secure their prey. Next day, from the return of a severe frost, all power of feeling and motion left their feet and fingers, and confined them to the dreary cave for a full week.
Until the 26th July, the cave afforded them a partial retreat from the severe inclemencies of the weather. On that day, private Inglis, the most successful of the adventurers, discovered a small hut about three miles away, in which a number of men’s names were carved. Under the last name was cut the words, “On a journey round the island, 27th May, 1849.” This unlooked for intimation gave rise to strange emotions and speculations, and the last cloud of despair vanished before the sudden hope which sprung up in his breast. How intensely did he gaze upon the portentous words! and how often did he read them to assure himself that the passage was not the insane impression of a diseased mind! Satisfied that the inscription was not a mental caprice, he started off to announce to his fellow-sufferers the purport of his discovery. All received the intelligence with wondering doubt. “Where! where!” burst from every lip, and hastening forward, they followed Inglis to the hut. There indeed was the “handwriting on the wall;” and seeing in that ominous sentence, the legacy of their lives bequeathed to them by Providence, each voice was swelled in thankful ascriptions to that gracious Power, which, hitherto, had so marvellously preserved them.
It was now resolved that the captain, one seaman, and privates Reid and Inglis, should take a circuit of the sea-girt isle, until they regained the cave, to see whether any one was near to help them. Having started, they reached the hut early in the morning; but as, at the time, it was blowing a heavy gale and snowing hard, they waited a day or two for the weather to moderate. During this interval they consulted together as to their future movements; and private Reid having volunteered to remain alone at the hut, the others commenced, on the 30th July, to make the special tour. Next day two of the party returned to the hut, so that on the 31st July the adventurers were thus dispersed—three on the search, three at the hut, two at the cave, and one of the two sailors in charge of the two sappers at the sick dêpot. The explorers made a long march the first day, examining every nook and every cliff for fresh evidences of habitation. The rain pelted on them; the snow sat in flakes on their gaunt frames; and wearied and foot-sore they dropped at night on the spot where the last speck of twilight left them in darkness. Next morning they were early afoot, and onward they travelled in pursuit of what, so far, seemed an ignis fatuus. Resolved to win their spurs, they would not suffer despondency or gloom to cheat them of their expectations; and another morning had scarcely opened upon them when the reward of their endurance and exertion was within their grasp. It was on the 1st August, when, after rambling about the island for no less than six weeks, shaken and enfeebled by hunger, pain, toil, and frost, they fell in with a party of twelve seafaring men in the service of Mr. Geary of Cape Town. The meeting was one in which mutual amazement and happiness were keenly felt; and for the following thirty-two days, no vessel having touched at the island, the Cape seamen generously shared with the adventurers their scanty stock of farina. Poor Goldsmith was still alive. The strangers carried him more than thirty miles to the cave on the south beach of the island in which they resided. One by one his toes dropped from his feet, and he perished on the 24th August. With every feeling of affection and sorrow for his unhappy fate, his comrades interred his remains on the spot where he ceased the mortal struggle.
The schooner ‘Courier,’ of Cape Town, at length brought up at the island with a supply of provisions; and the survivors of the wreck, after seventy-two days’ sojourn in that bleak and desolate region, having embarked on board of her, landed at Table Bay on the 10th November, where they were gratefully welcomed and entertained by a party of the corps.[[44]]