For this purpose a boat was manned with fourteen men, who proceeded to the ice with the anchor. At the same time, the ship was brought as near as possible; but no sooner was the anchor fastened to the ice, than a wave, dashing against the vessel, pulled the anchor from its fastenings, and she went adrift.
Before the sails could be properly set, she had reached a considerable distance. In attempting to near and return, the ship fell to leeward, and was driven out to sea.
This, to the poor seamen left behind, was a terrible disaster. The air was intensely cold. They were fourteen in number—with only a small open boat, insufficient to support them in such a gale as was prevailing—without shelter—without food—and on a detached piece of ice, which was liable every hour to float out to sea.
In this distressing situation, what should they do? Some advised to remain on the ice; but this might be broken by the increasing swell. Others were anxious to attempt to join the ship, while she was yet in sight; but the force of the wind, and the violence of the sea, rendered such an attempt little short of madness.
At length, however, the majority decided on the latter course; and having embarked, they launched forth on the swelling tide. But soon it was perceived to be all in vain—the boat could not live even a quarter of an hour, and their only safety lay in again returning to the ice. But even this was found to be impracticable. Each one now viewed his situation as desperate; and every moment expected to be engulfed in the rolling waters.
At this critical juncture,—this moment of deep despair,—suddenly and almost miraculously, as it seemed to them, a ship hove in sight. She was indeed bounding over the tumultuous waves—but she was advancing directly towards them.
But would she see them, and if seen, could they be taken on board in such a storm as was sweeping over the main? Fortunately, a small flag was in the boat. This was unfurled, and, streaming as it did in the wind, attracted the notice of the people on board the ship. The humane captain and his crew, from the first moment, determined, if possible, to afford them relief. This was difficult, and even perilous. But it might be done—and it was done. A kind Providence smiled upon the attempt, and the poor seamen, to their inexpressible joy, were rescued from a watery grave.
The ship proved to be the Lively, from the same port as their own vessel; and from their townsmen and acquaintances they had the pleasure to receive every token of kindness and affection which their pitiable condition required.