“‘(Signed)
“‘H. G. GOULAND,
“‘Resident Magistrate.’”
It is almost needless to append, in explanation, that the above is a tissue of falsehoods, fabricated by the deserters from our ship, whilst in the South Pacific. Their story is plausible; and, were a person not aware to the contrary, it would obtain implicit credence. It was concocted by the one named Joseph Riley. He is a native of New Jersey—of Irish extraction. He has been for years in the merchant service; and this, united with a previous voyage whaling, rendered him well acquainted with maritime affairs: hence, he found little difficulty in weaving a yarn that sounded plausible enough, although there is not a particle of truth in the whole account—our old ship never having leaked, during the continuance of the voyage thus far, more than enough to keep her sweet; only requiring to be pumped once a week, and then but for a few minutes. The carpenter is an imaginary personage—we never having possessed one: one was shipped in New Bedford, but ran away before we sailed. The person, who, under the name of Theodore Jerome, made the deposition before the magistrate at Collingwood, is supposed to have been in reality John Roberts, a London cockney, who had been transported to Australia. He had been in the Henry H. Crapo for twelve months, but left her in Vasse, and engaged with us; thus escaping the fate of the crew of that vessel, to live and play a rascal’s part in another clime. The true Theodore Jerome is still on board our ship, and justly indignant at the liberties taken with his name. The fact of their assuming it is attributable to their having in their possession an American protection, bearing the name of Theodore Jerome. Roberts is the only one of the party whose description corresponds with that contained in it; and hence we suppose him to be the person who made the affidavit. He is weak-minded, with little intelligence, and totally incapable of giving such an account; except at the instigation of a person like Riley, and afterwards being well drilled, until he was perfected in his part. The other names were real; or, rather, a part were those of our crew, whilst the rest, Owen, Anderson, and Ling, were the names of the deserters from the barque Lady Emma, of Hobartown, whom our fellows took aboard their boat at Open Bay. From their own account, they had pretty rough travelling; but the descriptive part, like the substance of their narrative, may be more romance than reality. But, apart from this, let us candidly judge their culpability. In the first place, no doubt, they were driven to an extremity by hunger and suffering; and, knowing that, as deserters, they would meet with no sympathy, in such emergency they concocted this method to obtain relief for their necessities: but why did they not, if such was their intention, substitute a fictitious name for that of our ship, and avoid particularizing as they did? Secondly, should any amount of personal suffering induce men to embitter for months the whole tenor of the existence of many happy circles, who, on the reception of such fatal news through relatives and friends, without any rebutting information on the subject, would at once set us down as irrecoverably lost?
Here was a pretty kettle of fish—some thirty-two of us consigned to the tender mercies of David Jones, Esq., the hereditary enemy of our profession, with as little remorse as if we were so many kittens; but, fortunately, the same mail that conveyed the papers containing the baleful news, gave us opportunity to send our own missives explanatory of the proceedings; but then our letters from Hobartown, in July, were sufficient evidence of our safety; so that, although it might create some uneasiness, it would be but evanescent.
Some months before we touched at Frenchman’s Bay, one of our boatsteerers received a letter from his family, in which was contained the report of a vessel having been seen by a merchantman in the South Atlantic, bottom up. She was evidently a whaler, a barque, and bore on her stern the name of Pacific, New Bedford. This was thought to be us, and thus our old ship was given up to the mercies of that ocean over which she had so gallantly rode for more than half a century, and, as far as I am able to judge, still rides as proudly as in her palmiest days—carrying her spars as jauntily as any of the constructions of shipwrights of the present day.
At 10 o’clock on the morning of the 26th, the gale having moderated and the wind shifted to a favorable quarter, we took our departure from Frenchman’s Bay. When directly opposite Baldhead we saw right and humpback whales, bound up the bay. We lowered away, but could get nowhere near them. They saw them from the fishery but met with like success in their attempt to capture one.
CHAPTER X.
We now directed our ship’s head to the westward, and fell in with the barques Cherokee and Pamelia. The former had sailed from home some two years previous; but, mutiny breaking out amongst her crew, she was run into Mauritius, and all the foremast hands discharged. The captain shipped a new crew, and was scarce a whit more fortunate in his selection; as a number of rough alleys, hearing of his reputation as a harsh man, determined to ship with him, in order, as they said, to work him up. At the time they shipped they were informed that they were engaged, not as sailors, but as whalemen. Soon after they got outside, an order was passed from the quarter-deck to make spun yarn, which they refused to do, repeating the terms of their engagement. The captain was forced to succumb, and, consequently, captain and crew were at variance during the remainder of their stay together. A boat’s crew from her came aboard our vessel. They were powerful, manly fellows—every one a thorough seaman, competent to perform his duty anywhere. Some months after we gammoned her she touched at Vasse, and set several of the ringleaders ashore.
Aboard the Pamelia we found Mr. Edwards, our former second officer, acting in the same capacity there. Her mate having left at Vasse, and gone home in the Dolphin, her former second mate took his berth, and Mr. Edwards the one left vacant by his promotion. Her crew seemed to us like old friends, and were greeted as such. They had been cruising on this coast ever since our departure, had been very successful, and anticipated a speedy return home. Their third mate had been taken very ill aboard the ship, and they had but a short time previously touched at Vasse for the purpose of leaving him, supposing that he could receive better attention ashore. Soon after they spoke the ship Canton, and were informed of his death. How the report originated I know not; for, in the following January, when we touched at that port, he was alive and well, and had been amusing himself kangaroo hunting.
The Pamelia brought us letters that had been received by mail at Vasse. As I was one of the fortunate ones, I was much gratified at receiving good news from home, and had my mind set at rest regarding the welfare of all my friends for another year.
On the 3d of November we lowered away for blackfish, of which the waist-boat captured one. A breeze springing up, the boats set their sails. The starboard-boat, by the carelessness of her manager, was capsized whilst merrily gliding along in pursuit of the fish, and her occupants, of whom I was one, got a ducking. When the boat went over, I was caught by the backstay that secured the mast, and had some difficulty in disentangling myself under water. The waist boat ran down, picked us up, and put us aboard the ship, where the whole affair was made a subject of laughter: this view always being taken of an accident to a boat where no person is seriously injured.