Owen Hartley; or, Ups and Downs: A Tale of Land and Sea

by William Henry Giles Kingston

They all agreed that it was important that they should get away with as little delay as possible from the sand-bank, and either reach some higher island or make their way to Batavia. There was a possibility also of their being picked up by some passing vessel. Owen, who knew that the distance to the Straits of Sunda could not be much less than 800 miles, and perhaps very much more, earnestly hoped that they might be fortunate enough to meet with a vessel.

Although the mate talked of going to Batavia he seemed far less confident in his manner than usual; indeed he appeared greatly out of spirits.

“Do you think, sir, that we could make Batavia?” asked Owen, finding himself alone with the mate.

“Yes, and we might go twice as far in our boat; but you have got a head on your shoulders, as you have lately shown, and should recollect that we cannot make a voyage of five or six days without water, and we may be twice as long as that. Why, those small casks you have will be exhausted before the boat can be got ready.”

The mate’s spirits rose considerably when Owen in reply told him that there were two other casks concealed in the sand. “Oh, then we need not stint ourselves as we have been doing,” he answered. “We shall probably get another shower before long, only I wish that we had some good liquor to mix with it.”

“But we may not get a shower, and the small supply we possess can only, with the greatest economy, last us two or three weeks,” remarked Owen.

The mate did not reply, but shortly afterwards, going to one of the casks, took a large draught of water. His thirst seemed insatiable—again and again he applied his mouth to the cask—had it contained spirits he would have done the same, and would speedily have become as tipsy as before. Owen was thankful that such was not the case, but regretted having told the mate, who had thus exhibited his utter selfishness, of the two casks concealed in the sand. He resolved at length to appeal to the men, and to advise them to insist that an equal and limited allowance of water should be served out to each person, a measure absolutely necessary for the preservation of their lives. Bill Pratt, to whom he first spoke, agreed to this, as did the rest, and Bill undertook to be the spokesman. The mate was overawed, and having drunk as much water as he just then required, sulkily agreed to the proposal.

Happily, in a short time, another large cloud was seen coming up with the wind, the last, apparently, of the vast mass which had lately overhung the sand-bank; the casks were got ready, the cloth stretched out. Anxiously the shipwrecked seamen gazed at the approaching cloud. The rain was seen falling into the sea. Would it cease before it reached them? On it slowly came. They could hear the precious rain as it reached the ocean. In another instant down it came upon them. The casks were filled. With proper economy they would have enough water to last them for many a day. How to repair the boat was the next question. The tools and nails which Owen and Nat had saved had been left at the camp, and, too probably, had been washed away. Unless they could find some more tools in one of the chests thrown up they could scarcely hope to fit the boat for sea. There were spars and planks enough, but they could not shape them with their knives alone for the purpose. They searched in vain, however, and found only a few nails sticking in some of the planks, but not a tool of any description. Nat had set out to look along the beach, while the rest of the party were consulting about the boat. He made his way in the direction of the camp.

As the tide had now fallen to its usual level, the intermediate ground was perfectly dry. He had been absent for some time. The mate directed the rest of the party to collect all the spars, planks, and cordage they could find.

“We might live on here for months, lads,” said Mr Scoones, “but should another gale spring up somewhat rougher than the last, we may all be swept away; so depend upon it, the sooner we get off this sand-bank the better. Where there’s a will there’s a way; and as we have no other tools we must do the best we can with our knives. It will be a long business, and we must take care not to break them. The first thing we have to do is to stop the leaks in the boat; we must then form some oars from the spars we have got and the staves of the casks. They won’t be very shapely, but they will serve to move the boat along, and the ends of the ropes will afford us oakum. We have cotton enough to make a suit of sails, although they might not be fit to stand a strong wind. We have also spars for masts and yards.”