Tents having been erected, the healthy men were employed in carrying the sick on shore. It was hoped that they would at once be restored to health; but for the first ten or twelve days rarely less than six were buried each day, and it was not until they had been twenty days on shore that the survivors began to recover.
Anson, who had brought a number of seeds and fruit-stones, at once had them planted for the benefit of those who might afterwards visit the spot. Anson’s people found the island still abounding with goats, and among the first killed was one which had its ears slit, by which they concluded that it was one of those which Alexander Selkirk had captured no less than thirty-two years before their arrival. It was indeed an animal of majestic appearance, dignified with a venerable beard and many other signs of antiquity.
Several others, also marked, were met with, they all having long beards and other characteristics of extreme age. The goats had no longer the island to themselves; for dogs had been landed which had increased so greatly that they disputed the territory with the former occupants, hunting together in packs. A curious spectacle was witnessed when one of these packs made chase after a herd of goats which escaped to the mountains. Here the active animals took refuge on a ridge which was accessible only by a narrow path, skirted on each side with precipices. On the top of the path a long-bearded he-goat posted himself fronting the enemy. The dogs, which had pursued eagerly, got up to about twenty yards from him, when, seeing his determined attitude, they dared approach no nearer, and laid themselves down, panting, well knowing that he would hurl them down the precipice, should they venture to attack him. The dogs, it was suspected, lived entirely on seals’ flesh, for several which were killed and eaten had a fishy taste. As the goats, taking refuge in the more inaccessible parts of the country, could with difficulty be killed, the crews subsisted on the flesh of the young seals, which they called veal, and on that of the sea-lions, which was denominated beef. Large numbers of fish were also caught with lines.
The Trial sloop having so quickly joined the Centurion, it was hoped that the rest of the squadron would appear; but a fortnight passed, and none being seen, the worst was feared as to their fate. On the 21st of June, however, a
ship was perceived to leeward of the island, but she disappeared. It was not until the 26th that a sail was again seen; it was found to be the Gloucester, and a boat was immediately sent off laden with fresh water, fish, and vegetables. This seasonable supply saved the lives of the survivors on board her. She had already thrown overboard two-thirds of her complement. Excepting the officers and their servants, scarcely any were capable of doing duty. Every one of the pensioners had died, and most of the marines. For many weeks afterwards, however, though several of the Centurion’s crew were sent to her assistance with further refreshments, she was unable to beat up to the anchorage. It was not until the 23rd of July that she at length got into the bay. Her crew were now reduced to less than eighty men. The sick, on being landed and well supplied with fresh provisions, recovered sooner than was expected. Great anxiety was now felt on account of the non-appearance of the Anna Pink, laden with provisions, as the flour on board the other ships was almost exhausted. At last, about the middle of August, she came in, having spent the greater part of the intermediate period in harbour on the coast of Patagonia, where the wild animals, killed by the crew, supplied them with abundance of meat. None of her men had died.
The Anna Pink was now broken up and her stores transferred to the Centurion, which stood in great need of them, as it had been with much difficulty that a fresh suit of sails had been made out of the canvas remaining on board; it had been even necessary to unlay a cable to obtain sufficient ropes for her rigging.
It was now computed that of the nine hundred and sixty-one men who had left England in the Centurion, Gloucester, and Trial, six hundred and twenty-six were dead, three hundred and thirty-five thus alone remaining to man the three ships.
Brave as Anson was, he could not but dread lest he should, with his diminished crews, fall in with Don Pizarro’s squadron, not aware at the time of its fate, which had been even worse than his own.
A vessel being seen in the north-east, which, having got near the island, steered away towards the coast, it was concluded that she was Spanish. On this Anson resolved to give her chase, and his crew, hurrying on board the Centurion, bent sails, and by five in the afternoon was under weigh.