In the Eastern Seas

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“We must run on, and heave to for him,” said Captain Davenport. “We can then lower a boat and pick him up. It is as you suppose, Thudicumb; I have no doubt about it.”

The poor occupant of the canoe made a gesture of despair as he saw the ship leaving him astern. Apparently he did not understand the meaning of the words addressed to him through the captain’s speaking-trumpet. Still he sat as before, his eyes kept constantly ahead, while with one arm he directed the course of his canoe. She flew so fast that we had to get a considerable distance ahead before we hove to. A boat was then lowered, into which Mr Tarbox and six stout hands jumped for the purpose of intercepting the approaching canoe. The boat had only just time to get ready, with her head in the direction towards which the canoe was sailing, when she was up to her. We watched her anxiously from the ship. She was soon alongside the boat. Several strong hands seized her, while the occupant was lifted out and placed in the stern-sheets of the boat. Quick as lightning the canoe was passed astern and secured, and the boat pulled back towards the ship. With the heavy sea there was running, it was a difficult matter to get alongside, and still more so to lift up a helpless person without risk of injury. By the management of the boatswain, however, helped by those above, the dark-skinned stranger was soon lifted up on deck. He was too weak to speak, but he had still consciousness sufficient to point to his lips. Soup for the passengers’ luncheon was just being brought aft. A little was immediately poured down his throat. It had the effect of reviving him somewhat, and he uttered a few words, but none of those standing round were able to comprehend their meaning. The canoe was safely got on board and examined. Not a particle of food was found, but in the bottom of a small cask there remained about half a pint of water. The wood, however, from the sides of the canoe had been scraped off.

“That is what the poor fellow has been living on,” observed Tarbox. “Hard fare, to be sure. It would not help much to keep an Englishman’s soul in his body; but it is wonderful what these black fellows can live on.”

The canoe was about eighteen feet long, cut out of a single log, worked very fine, with wash-boards nailed on above. It seemed surprising that she could have gone through the heavy sea which had been running for some days past. Her owner was carried below, and after a little more food had been given him, he fell fast asleep.

When he awoke, he appeared to be perfectly recovered, sitting up and looking round him with an air of astonishment, as if he had not been aware how he had been brought on board. I had accompanied the surgeon to visit him. He again uttered some of the strange words we had before heard, but finding no one understood him, he stopped, and appeared to be collecting his senses. He then said something which sounded like French. It was very bad French, to be sure; but we shortly made out that he was expressing his thanks to us for having rescued him.

The next day he was up and dressed, and though somewhat weak, perhaps, apparently as well as anybody on board. He now came aft, when, in his broken language, helped out with a word or two of English, he gave us a strange story. I cannot pretend to give his account in his own language—indeed it would not be very clear if I did so, as it was only after he had been on board some time that we gained all the particulars. He told us that his name was Macco, that he was born in Madagascar, at a village in the north of that large island. With several lads from the same village he had gone on board a vessel which had carried them to the Mauritius. There he had worked as a field-labourer for some time, and though not a slave, treated very little better than one. He had learned something about Christianity, but not much, I am afraid. He knew that some of his countrymen had become Christians; but as large numbers of them had been murdered, he was afraid, should he ever go back to Madagascar, that he might be treated in the same way, and was therefore unwilling to acknowledge that he was a Christian. After a time he had engaged with several other people from Madagascar, as well as Creoles of the Mauritius, to accompany a person to the island of Rodrigez, to be employed under him as fishermen. They were at once embarked on board a small colonial vessel, which conveyed them to that island, where they were hired out to different masters. It appeared, however, that the Creoles were very jealous of the Malagasys, and poor Macco found himself very ill-treated by them. Frequently they beat him, and often threatened his life. Several times he complained of their conduct to his master; but the man was hard-hearted, and only laughed at his complaints, telling him to go and thrash the Creoles, and they would soon cease to torment him. Poor Macco, however, was a mild-tempered young man, and probably thought that he would only be treated worse if he made any such attempt. At length, to avoid the persecutions to which he was subjected, he determined to run away from the island, and endeavour to reach the Mauritius. He mentioned his determination to one of his fellow-countrymen, who advised him to put it into execution. He, however, had to wait some time before he could carry out his project. He began, however, at once to store up a supply of food to support himself during his projected voyage. At first he contemplated building a canoe for himself, but as that might raise suspicions of his intentions, he resolved to take one belonging to his master. He had some scruples about stealing it, but at the same time he persuaded himself that as his master would not redress his grievances, he was justified in doing so. He probably was unacquainted with the golden rule of never doing wrong that good might come of it. It was a subject, indeed, on which casuists might differ. Be that as it may, Macco fixed on a canoe which he thought would answer his purpose. His countrymen assisted him, and he procured a piece of calico to serve as a sail, and soon cut a mast and spar on which to spread it. The only food he was able to provide for supporting existence was eight pounds of uncooked rice, and a small barrel of water.

One evening as it was growing dark he stole down to the shore, and the wind being as he thought fair, shoved off the canoe, hoisted a sail, and with an oar for steering, which he secured to the stern of the canoe, stood away from the land. The weather at first was very fine, and he glided smoothly over the sea, hoping before long to reach either the Mauritius or Bourbon. He was unable to restrain his hunger, which the uncooked rice could have done little to appease, and therefore ate up nearly a pound a day. Thus at the end of eight or nine days he had finished the whole of his provisions. He had still some water left, however, and he knew very well that he could go without food for a day, hoping before the end of it to have land in sight. He scarcely stirred from his seat in the stern of the canoe. When he dropped off to sleep, the movement of the oar very soon awoke him. Few Europeans on such fare would have lived beyond the first ten days. Macco, however, when his rice was expended, began to scrape away the wood from the inside of his canoe. This, cut up fine, he ate, washing it down with water. Day after day passed by, and still no land, no sail appeared. Often he slept, steering instinctively, it must have been, before the wind, and waking up to feel the gnawing of hunger. This he satisfied with the scraped wood. Incredible as it may appear, such was the only food on which he supported existence for thirteen days. We had many opportunities of testing the man’s honesty and had no reason to doubt his veracity. He was of course little more than skin and bone when he was brought on board. He had actually been twenty-two days at sea when we found him.

Note. The narrative is true, and is given exactly as described in the original account.

In the course of a few days he had completely recovered his strength, and seemed very well satisfied with his lot. As he was a smart, active fellow, he was entered as one of the seamen of the Bussorah Merchant. He knew a little English already, and quickly picked up more. He was thus well able to understand the orders given him. He did not appear to be a favourite with the men. He was evidently retiring and unsociable. Perhaps he had been so long subjected to ill-treatment from others, that he was unwilling to place confidence in those among whom he was cast, until he had ascertained that they were well-disposed towards him. I observed, however, that Ali was constantly speaking to him, but I rather doubt that their words were very intelligible to each other, as English was the only common language they possessed. Ali knew it very imperfectly, and Macco still less. More than once I observed Ali’s quick, piercing, fierce eyes fixed on him attentively, as he appeared to be endeavouring to impress some matter on his mind. Macco’s look all the time was passive, and he either did not comprehend what was said, or was uninfluenced by it.

One night, when it was my watch on deck, I had been standing looking out on the forecastle, when I heard a voice near me say, “When you step aft, Massa Walter, I got word to whisper in your ear.” It was Potto Jumbo who spoke. I had thought that he had been in his bunk asleep.