The weather grew worse and worse; the boat, under a close-reefed mizen on the bumpkin stepped as a foremast, was steered with an oar by the second master. When they had arrived within about two miles of the island, the wind shifted to a very severe squall, accompanied with lightning, thunder, and a heavy hail-storm. Mr. Larcom, the gunner, now took the place of the second master in steering the boat, which was scarcely got round, before the wind caught her with such violence, that it seemed impossible the boat could live.
The squall continued without intermission for two hours and a half, when the moon again emerged from the clouds, and the Island of Galita was discovered on the port quarter. Some in the boat exclaimed, 'That is the island!' which, at the time, they supposed to be long out of sight, as the boat appeared to be going rapidly through the water; this naturally led to a conjecture that a strong current set to the northward and eastward. The wind still continued to veer about, and at one time they thought that they must have passed the ship, but the night was too dark to enable them to discern anything clearly many yards beyond the boat.
In this manner they passed the long hours of night, exposed to cold, hunger, and exhaustion; and, as Lieutenant Rooke afterwards observed, with the full expectation that they would be unable to survive until morning. The second master appeared to have lost all reason. Upon being questioned as to whereabouts they were, or in what direction it was necessary to steer, he seemed to be scarcely aware that he was addressed. The doctor, the master's assistant, and the boy Morley, were lying at the bottom of the boat during the whole night, and the stoker, John Owen, was wrapped in his jacket, and appeared, if possible, in a worse condition than the second master. When asked to do anything, he only replied by vacant answers, and before morning became an idiot. At last the wished-for day broke, and the coast of Africa was discerned about eight or nine miles distant. As Lieutenant Rooke considered that the boat could not be kept above water much longer, he determined upon attempting a landing, and accordingly he himself steered her towards a small spot of sand, apparently clear of the rocks, and slightly sheltered by a reef running out into the sea.
This officer, from the time the boat quitted the Avenger, had, notwithstanding his own personal sufferings, set a noble example to his comrades, by exerting every effort to sustain their drooping spirits. As he approached the shore, he exclaimed in a cheerful voice, 'This is something like Don Juan's shipwreck; I only hope we shall find a Haidee.' It must not be supposed that this was said out of bravado, or because he was not perfectly aware of the danger, but from the necessity of his duty, as their commanding officer, to infuse a new spirit into his exhausted crew, and to encourage them in the approaching struggle, which he well knew would he 'life or death.' On hearing the above words, poor Steel, the doctor, exclaimed, 'Rooke! Rooke! there are other things to think of now.' The words were prophetic, for before many minutes had elapsed, he had ceased to exist. As they approached the shore, the sail was shifted from the port side to the starboard, and the sheet which had been held by Hills, the captain's steward, for ten hours, was fastened to the thwarts.
Mr. Rooke now again resigned his place as steerer to Larcom, the gunner, and assisted the others in baling out the boat, which had shipped a heavy sea on the quarter. The boat was steered within about one hundred and fifty yards of the beach, when the rollers caught her, first lifting her upright, and, as there was not water enough to float her whole length, she filled and capsized. Larcom, Lieutenant Rooke, Hills, the captain's steward, and the boy Morley, succeeded in gaining the beach, but the rest of their unfortunate comrades perished.
We should here mention that this was the second occasion on which the boy Morley narrowly escaped a watery grave.
When the Avenger was at Lisbon, the boy fell overboard, and would have perished, had it not been for Lieutenant Marryat, who, at the risk of his own life, sprung into the sea, and rescued the boy.
In a few minutes a Bedouin Arab, who had been watching the boat from some high ground, came toward them and conducted them to his hut, where he supplied them with some milk; and having lighted a fire, they were enabled to dry their clothes.
They remained with their hospitable entertainer during that day, and in the evening made a supper of maize-cake and sour milk. In the meantime, Mr. Rooke had made the Arab understand their situation, and their wish to get to Tunis; and after some trouble and promise of reward, he agreed to conduct them next morning to Biserta. The wearied men then threw themselves on the ground, where they passed the night in company with dogs, cows, and goats, exposed to a violent wind and pouring rain.
Their subsequent proceedings are thus related by Lieutenant Rooke:—