BYRON CARRYING THE CAPTAIN'S SEAL.
The party landed, and the canoes were taken to pieces. Every one, man and woman, with the usual exception of Cheap, had to take his share of them; Byron had, besides, to carry for the Captain some putrid seal in canvas. "The way being through thick woods and quagmires, and stumps of trees in the water which obstructed their progress," the poor midshipman was left behind exhausted.
After two hours' rest, and feeling that if he did not overtake his companions he was lost indeed, he started after them without his burden. But on coming up with them he was so bitterly reproached by the Captain for the loss of his seal and canvas that he actually returned five miles for them. After two days of absence from his companions he again rejoined them, in the last extremity of fatigue, but "no signs of pleasure were evinced on their part."
Eventually, after days of terrible suffering, they reached the Spanish settlements at Castro, where, strange to say, they were received with humanity. But as to eating, "it would seem as if they never felt satisfied, and for months afterward would fill their pockets at meals in order that they might get up two or three times in the night to cram themselves." Even Captain Cheap was wont to declare that "he was quite ashamed of himself," from which we may certainly infer that their conduct was gluttonous indeed.
The Englishmen, though well fed, received no clothing, and were carried through the country by the Governor of Castro in a sort of triumphal progress. At one place a young woman, the niece of the parish priest, and bearing the appropriate name of Chloe, fell in love with young Byron. He did not wish for this union, but he confesses that what almost decided him to become her husband was the exhibition by her uncle of a piece of linen, which he was promised should be made up at once into shirts for him if he would consent. "He had, however, the resolution to withstand the temptation."
From Castro the English officers were taken to Santiago, the capital of Chili, where a Spanish officer generously cashed their drafts on the English consul at Lisbon. They received the sum of six hundred dollars, with which sum they purchased suitable equipments. They remained at Castro two years on parole, and eventually reached France, and thence escaped to England, after a series of hardships and adventures such as have rarely been equalled, and which were "protracted above five years."
The adventures of the eighty men who had left Wager Island in the long-boat were little less terrible. Many perished of starvation, and those who had money or valuables offered unheard-of prices for a little food. "On Sunday, the 15th of November," for example, "flour was valued at twelve shillings a pound, but before night it rose to a guinea." There was a boy on board, aged twelve years, son of a Lieutenant Capell, who had died on the island. His father had given twenty guineas, a watch, and a silver cross to one of the crew to take care of for the poor boy, who wanted to sell the cross for flour. His guardian told him it would buy clothes for him in the Brazils, whither they were bound. "Sir," cried the poor boy, "I shall never live to see the Brazils; I am starving. Therefore, for God's sake, give me my silver cross." But his prayers were vain. "Those who have not experienced such hardships," observes the narrator of this scene, "will wonder how people can be so inhuman.... But Hunger is void of compassion." Of the eighty men only thirty survived to reach England by way of Valparaiso.