There was no time to make inquiries as to how the vessel was wrecked. We heard that she was a homeward-bound barque from the United States, and that the passengers on board were returning to see their friends. We hurried over to the leeside of the rock, and at once embarked the two women with the infant, who seemed to be totally exhausted.
As soon as we got alongside, we lifted them on board, where papa and I remained, he sending the boat back with our two men. Truck had lighted the galley fire, and we soon had some hot broth for the poor creatures, who, having taken off their wet clothes, got into our beds. Papa then looked out all the blankets, and we made up as many beds as we could on the sofa and cabin deck.
By this time the boat had returned with the remaining women and children. She made no less than seven trips before all were brought off; and, as may be supposed, our little vessel was pretty well crowded. Even the men were in a greatly exhausted state, and could not do much for themselves. Papa, however, seemed to think and act for everybody.
As soon as all were on board, we hoisted in the boat, and the wind being fair, having shaken out the reefs in the mainsail, we steered for Saint Ives. Dick, who was not fit for much when we first left the vessel, had now recovered, and assisted in getting off the wet clothes from our young passengers, and in carrying round food.
The cabin presented a curious appearance, with the people stowed as thickly as herrings in a cask, all wrapped up in blankets and peacoats. Fortunately, the water was smooth under the lee of the land; but the number of people on board brought the vessel much below her usual bearings.
“I am thankful we have not a long voyage to make, or we should soon be short of provisions,” said papa, as we got out tin after tin of soup and meat.
The soft bread and fresh beef we had taken on board at Penzance were soon consumed by the women and children, who speedily rallied from their exhaustion.
The wind, however, fell very light, and there appeared to be a prospect of our not being able to get in that night.
On inquiry, papa found that the master and first mate of the wrecked ship had been tipsy for some days, and had quarrelled desperately with each other, and the second mate, interfering, had been nearly killed. They had got completely out of their course, and none of them knew where they were. They had been bound for the Thames. The men said that when they saw the Longships they fancied that it was the Eddystone, and that when they struck they supposed that they were not far off Plymouth Breakwater, though they were wondering why they did not see the light.
“It is one of the many sad examples we have had of the effects of drinking,” observed papa. “If I had to make a voyage, I should choose a temperance vessel. Though a master may appear sober enough in port under the eyes of his owners, unless he is a temperate man, one can never tell what he may do at sea.”