Harper's Young People, November 7, 1882 / An Illustrated Weekly

by Various

For the first three days the weather was cold and cloudy, but on the fourth the wind lowered, and they found themselves exposed to the racking heat of a powerful sun. Mackay's agonies, especially his sufferings from thirst, then became terrible. The only relief from them was afforded by dipping a flannel waistcoat which he wore next his skin from time to time in the sea. He writes, however, that he always "found a secret satisfaction in every effort I made for the preservation of my life." On the fifth day the first two persons died of actual starvation, their end being attended by sufferings which had a most sorrowful effect on the survivors.

As the sea was now smooth, an attempt was made to fit out a raft (the boats having been rendered useless), but this being insufficient to contain the whole crew, the stronger beat off the weaker. Though Mackay succeeded in getting on board, Mrs. Bremner did not, and he asked to be put back again, which was readily done. He resumed his place by her in the mizzentop. Her husband had by this time lost his wits, and would not even answer when addressed. "At first the sight of his wife's distress seemed to give him pain as having been the cause of her sufferings, and he avoided her; but now he would barely permit her to quit his arms, so that they were sometimes even obliged to use force to rescue her from his embraces." His frenzy (as often happens in such cases) took the form of seeing an imaginary feast, and wildly demanding to be helped to this or that dish. On the twelfth day he died, and it was with the utmost difficulty that they threw the body into the sea, after stripping off a portion of his clothing for his wife's use.

There were two boys on board the Juno, who were among the earliest victims. Their fathers were both in the foretop, and heard of their sons' illness from those below. One of them—it was the thirteenth day of their misery—answered with indifference that he "could do nothing" for his son. The other hurried down as well as he could, and, "watching a favorable moment, scrambled on all fours along the weather gunwale to his child, who was in the mizzen-rigging. By that time only three or four planks of the quarter-deck remained, and to them he led the boy, making him fast to the rail to prevent his being washed away. Whenever the lad was seized with a fit of sickness, the father lifted him up and wiped away the foam from his lips, and if a shower came, he made him open his mouth and receive the drops, or gently squeezed them into it from a rag. In this terrible situation both remained five days, until the boy expired. The unfortunate parent, as if unwilling to believe the fact, raised the body, looked wistfully at it, and when he could no longer entertain any doubt, watched it in silence until it was carried off by the sea. Then, wrapping himself in a piece of canvas, he sank down and rose no more, though he must have lived—as we judged from the quivering of his limbs when a wave broke over him—a few days longer." In all the annals of shipwreck I know no more pathetic picture than this.

But for showers of rain all would have been dead long since. They had no means of catching the drops save by spreading out their clothes, which were so wet with salt-water that at first it tainted the fresh. Mackay, however, before these timely supplies arrived, had had a very unusual experience. Maddened by the fever which consumed him, and in spite of the ill consequences he expected to happen, he had gone down and drank two quarts of sea-water. "To my great astonishment, though this relaxed me violently, it revived both my strength and spirits. I got a sound sleep, and my animal heat abated." Another expedient for getting some moisture into their mouths was to chew canvas or even lead. Shoes they had none, as leather dressed in India is rendered useless by water, and Lascars never use any shoes. There were, indeed, some bits of leather about the rigging but the smell and taste of it were found "too offensive to be endured." The rains and their fatigue made them very cold at night. In the morning, as the heat increased, "we exposed first one side and then the other to it, until our limbs became pliant; and as our spirits revived, we indulged in conversation, which sometimes even became cheerful. But as mid-day approached, the scorching rays renewed our torments, and we wondered how we could have wished the rain to cease."

It must be understood that the ship, though its hull was under water, was moving on all this time. On July the 10th, being the twentieth day from its partial sinking, one of the people, as had often before happened, cried out, "Land!" His cry was now heard without emotion, though, "on raising my head a few minutes afterward," says Mackay, "I saw many eyes turned in the direction indicated." Mrs. Bremner inquired of him whether he thought it might be the coast of Coromandel, which seemed to him so ridiculous that he answered that if it was, "they ought to be exhibited as curiosities in the Long Room at Madras under the pictures of Cornwallis and Meadows."

It was, however, really the land, though they had small chance of reaching it. Indeed, before evening, the ship, under water as it already was, struck on a rock. The tide having fallen, the remaining beams of the upper deck were left bare, and Mackay and the gunner tried to get Mrs. Bremner down to them, "but she was too weak to help herself, and we had not strength to carry her." The Lascars—for the raft had come back with them, as it could make no headway—offered to help if she gave them money. She happened to have thirty rupees about her, which was afterward of great use, and she did not stint it in helping her preservers. They brought her down for eight rupees, and insisted on being paid on the spot. With that exception, it is pleasant to read that their conduct was excellent throughout, and their behavior to Mrs. Bremner singularly kind and delicate.

In the gun-room, which they could now reach through a hole in the deck, were found some cocoa-nuts, which one would have expected the finders to retain. On the contrary, they shared them, and insisted only upon keeping the milk in the nuts. This consisted of only a few drops of rancid oil; nor had the solid part of the cocoa-nuts—a fact to be remembered by those who buy them out of barrows—the least nourishment in it. They found themselves rather worse than better for eating them.

They were past the worst pains of hunger by this time, but the frenzied desire for water still continued. "Water, fresh-water," says Mackay, "was what perpetually haunted my imagination; not a short draught which I could gulp down in a moment—of that I could not endure the thought—but a large bowlful, such as I could hardly hold in my arms. When I thought of victuals, I only longed for such as I could swallow at once without the trouble of chewing."

Hope now began to animate them, and though it was the twenty-first day of their sufferings, it is noteworthy that no one died after they first saw land. Toward evening six of the stoutest Lascars, though indeed they were all shadows, tied themselves to spars, and reached the shore. They found a stream of fresh-water, of which those on board could "see them drinking their fill." In the morning they beheld these men surrounded by natives, and were all attention to see what sort of treatment they met with. The natives "immediately kindled a fire, which we rightly concluded was for dressing rice, and then came down to the water's edge, waving handkerchiefs to us as a signal that we should come ashore. To describe our emotions at that moment is impossible."

But these poor folks could not get on shore, and least of all the poor woman. Boats there were none, and if there had been, there was such a surf between the ship and the land that no boat could live in it. But to remain was certain death. "I felt myself called upon," says Mackay, "to make the attempt." With great difficulty he got out a spar and tied it to him with a rope. He then took leave of Mrs. Bremner, who was of course utterly helpless. "She dismissed me with a thousand good wishes for my safety." While they were speaking, the spar broke loose, and floated away. He paused one moment, then plunged into the sea. Though he could "hardly move a joint" before, his limbs immediately became limber in the water, and the spar helped to sustain him; but "being a perfect square, it turned round with every motion of the water, and rolled me under it." Eventually, however, a tremendous wave carried him to land.