In England and America we should think the system employed by other nations of compelling men to become soldiers, their lot being decided by a number drawn from an urn, most intolerable; but the old system of "pressing" for the navy was far worse. Going to sea was not then looked upon as now as an honorable profession, with its compensations and pleasures, and not more difficult and dangerous than many another way in which the poor man has to earn his living. A sea-faring life, owing to the miserable equipment of the ships and the insolence and brutality of the officers, was considered by many a lot to which death was almost preferable. To obtain sailors for merchant vessels was so difficult that gangs of men were sent out who would overpower and seize any able-bodied man they might find in the streets, carrying him aboard a vessel at night, and keeping him in confinement until away from land, when he would be released and compelled to do his share in managing the vessel. Any attempt at remonstrance would be promptly quelled by blows and injuries of a fouler character.
It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that among the crew of the Wager, made up as it was in this way, a spirit of insubordination and a hatred of authority existed. This will explain many things that happened on this unhappy voyage that would otherwise be hard to believe.
The vessel had always difficulty in keeping up with the rest of the squadron; and meeting with a gale on the 7th of April, was so greatly shattered and disabled that she lost sight of her sister ships altogether, and could obtain no help from them. The place of rendezvous was the island of Socoro; but the weather was too bad to take an observation, as it is called, whereby to judge of her position. There were no charts on board of the neighborhood whither she had been driven, but an "abundance of weeds and the flight of certain birds" indicated her approach toward land of some sort.
The gale by this time had reduced the vessel to a mere wreck, and every endeavor was made to keep her from going ashore. It was difficult enough to set the top-sails, since "it was so extremely dark that the people could not see the length of the ship, and no sooner had it been accomplished than the wind blew them from the yards."
At four in the morning of the 14th, though she had her head to the west, and was therefore standing off shore, the Wager struck violently on a hidden rock. It helps us to picture the force of waves in storm to learn that the people on board at first took this concussion for the mere striking of a heavy sea. But the next minute the ship was laid on her beam ends, and the sea made a fair breach in her.
The consequence of this was an almost universal panic. Those who were not drowned in their berths rushed up on deck, and many appeared deprived of reason. One man, armed with a cutlass, struck at every one about him, and had to be knocked overboard, and another, "though one of the bravest men on board," was so dismayed by the terrible aspect of the breakers that he tried to throw himself over the rails of the quarter-deck. Others abandoned themselves to sullen despair, and were carried to and fro, with every shock of the ship, like inanimate logs.
The man at the wheel, however, kept his station, though both rudder and tiller were gone, and Mr. Jones, the mate, cried out, in order to encourage the crew: "What, my men, did you never see a ship among breakers before? Come, lend a hand; here's a sheet, and here's a brace; lay hold. We shall bring her near enough land yet to save our lives." This was the more creditable in him, as he knew what "breakers" were, and had a firm conviction in his own mind, as he afterward confessed, that nothing short of a miracle could save them.
But the ship drove on, and contrived to strike just between two large rocks. One of them partially sheltered her from the beating of the sea, which nevertheless threatened every minute to rend her to pieces.
As soon as day dawned, the barge, the cutter, and the yawl were launched, though with the greatest difficulty, and so "many leaped into the first that she was greatly overloaded." The bonds of discipline, it will thus be seen, were already relaxed; nor must the saying of the Captain, that "he would be the last man to leave the ship," be set down as very heroic, for Captain Cheap had recently dislocated his shoulder, and would have found getting into a boat a very difficult job indeed. Of all those in authority with whom we have to deal in these scenes of peril and privation, Captain Cheap, of the Wager, was, I think, the most selfish and incompetent. At the same time, as will be seen in the sequel, he had plenty of courage. Even on the present occasion, as Midshipman Byron witnesses, the Captain issued his orders "with as much calmness as ever he had done during the former part of the voyage."