A Boy Crusoe

Early Life; Off for a Voyage.

I was born in a little town in the State of Maine, near the close of the Civil War. My boyhood life did not differ materially from that of the average farmer's son in the remote country districts of New England--except, perhaps, that I read more and thought more. Hard work on the rugged soil, two terms each year in the little yellow country schoolhouse, a day's fishing now and then filled the early years of my life full to over-flowing. In the winter it was work in the woods, cutting up the year's supply of fire-wood; and then, before the spring ploughing time, my brother and myself found pleasant labor and recreation combined in the maple woods, tapping the trees, gathering the sap and tending the fire under the great kettles where the sweet product of the maple was transformed into syrup and sugar.

I really think that I was more thoughtful than the average boy. I know that I read more. I do not remember ever feeling dissatisfied with my life or with the prospects that the future held out for me. Probably I was too young for these things to trouble me much; but I read everything in the way of books and papers that I could borrow, or purchase by saving a little money earned in various ways. I was fond of stories of adventure; but travel and adventure combined, interested me most. Therefore, as I grew older, I became imbued with a passionate desire to travel in foreign lands. The tropics were my ideal, and this feeling became stronger as the years went by.

When I was fifteen years of age my father removed to a large village where there was a graded school, and I entered the grammar school, then the high school from which I was graduated.

The passion for travel still had a strong hold upon me, but I saw no immediate prospect of gratifying it, for I was obliged to look about for some immediate means of earning a living for myself. When everything else fails, one can always find an opportunity to canvass for a publishing house or a novelty concern; so, soon after leaving the high school, I was trudging up and down the banks of the Penobscot river, calling from house to house. It was discouraging work, but I succeeded moderately well.

Late in the fall I went up to Bangor to canvass that city, and it was there that I made the acquaintance of a gentleman, which led to the experiences that I am about to relate, and which changed the whole course of my life.

Mr. William H. Sargent was a wealthy, retired merchant, with impaired health. His wealth had been acquired by trading with the South American countries, and the West Indies, and he still retained large interest in many vessels sailing to that part of the world.

It was his idea to make a voyage in one of these vessels, and the friendship which had developed between us, mostly through meeting in the reading room of the Public Library, caused him to suggest that I accompany him on his voyage to the Southern seas.

I accepted only too gladly, and that very evening I wrote a long letter to my mother, explaining my good fortune, bidding her not to worry by exaggerating, in her own mind, the dangers to be encountered.

The next few days I spent mostly with my benefactor, for as such I looked upon him, helping him in various ways in his preparations for the voyage. As for myself, I required little more than a modest supply of clothing.

Mr. Sargent was thoughtful and considerate, however, and insisted upon my procuring much that I deemed unnecessary for my modest requirements, paying for the same from his own pocket.

Our craft was a trim bark called the Ethelyn Hope, built at Searsport three years before. She was two hundred and fifty tons gross measurement and sat in the water jauntily and buoyantly. From her load water-line to the tips of her topmast she was as trim a craft as one could wish to see. As she lay at the wharf ready for sea, everything on deck had been made snug, and not a coil of rope or spare block was out of place. Her cargo consisted of case oil, salt fish and flour in her hold, and she carried a good deck-load of lumber. She was bound for Cayenne, French Guiana, on the north coast of South America.

The Ethelyn Hope was commanded by Captain Thomas Witham; and the first, second and third mates, with nine able seamen before the mast comprised the crew.

Nothing remained to be done except to cast off the lines, when, released from her bonds the bark slowly moved down the river. The sails on the lower yards and jib-boom were set, and with a light breeze favoring her, aided by the swift current, the city was soon lost behind High Head.

By daylight the following morning we had passed through the "Narrows", and just at sunrise all sails were set and the bark squared away for the mouth of the bay where she was laid on a sou', sou'-east course as she took her final departure.

My spirits were decidedly buoyant as the bark glided out of the bay into the open sea, and a delicious sense of elation took possession of me as I realized that I was really on board a ship, with the land fading away behind me, bound for a foreign shore, the wonderful tropics, the land of palms of which I had read so much. I should see for myself the curious things of the sea, strange countries and people; and perhaps encounter fierce animals in the virgin forests, the home of birds of rare and beautiful plumage.

With a strong northwest breeze the bark stood away on her course, with every sail filled out and drawing handsomely. Although the weather had been clear and the sea fairly calm, by sunset a thin haze rendered the outline of the horizon dimly visible, and the Captain began to fear a blow. His nautical instinct made him sure that there was to be a change in the weather, and he gave orders for everything to be made secure. And, sure enough, at dusk the wind freshened and hauled around into the north-east.

It was about this time that I suddenly became conscious of a peculiar feeling, a sudden dizziness, like the sensation caused by a boy's first cigar. I knew well enough that I was experiencing the first sensations of seasickness, and, suddenly losing interest in the sailing of the ship, I went below and tumbled into my berth.

Feeling somewhat better, while I lay quiet, I had nearly dropped off to sleep when I was aroused by a tremendous noise, which brought me to my senses, when I realized that the vessel was rolling and pitching wildly. I could hear the howling of the wind around the deck-houses, and the snapping of the great sails. Now and then I heard the sound of the Captain's voice on deck as though he were giving brisk orders; and I rightly concluded that we were having it very rough. I looked across the cabin and saw that Mr. Sargent was in his berth, but as he was apparently not asleep I spoke to him, asking if there was any danger.

"Oh, I guess not," he replied. "We are having a pretty stiff blow."

Strangely enough, I suppose, I did not now feel sick, though my head was a little dizzy, so I concluded to go on deck. I cautiously ascended the companion way, and found the Captain standing near the wheel, enveloped in oil-skins, his head being covered by an ample sou'wester.

"Hello, boy," was his greeting, "what are you doing up here? The best place for you is below; you might get blown over-board."

But I begged to be allowed to remain a little, arguing that I felt better on deck, and the Captain relented and found a sheltered place under the lee of the cook's galley, telling me not to try to move about the deck.

The bark was rolling and tossing, but appeared to be bounding through the water like a race-horse. Soon I heard the Captain tell the mate that the wind had shifted around into the east, and that they were in for a stiff blow, and rain, too, before long.

So it proved, and it was not long before the squall struck in earnest. The ship careened, and a sea came over her weather rail, until the lee-scuppers spouted green water, wetting me a little, even in my sheltered retreat.

The rain began to fall, and the sailors had their hands full. There was a great commotion of loudly spoken orders, the tramping of feet, the creaking of blocks, the rush and roar of the sea and the howling of the blast through the rigging. All hands were called to take in sail, and the bark, soon close hauled, was lying over nearly to her lee rail. The heavy sea beat against her bows with all the force which tons of water could exert, while the staunch little vessel, quivering for a moment would seem to hesitate, and then plunge forward to meet the next onslaught like an animate thing possessed of sensible emotions. The spray, flying back over the bows, drenched the deck from fore to aft. The topsail halyards had been hauled taut, and the sails filled out and backed against the masts with a noise like thunder.

I did not long remain in the scanty shelter afforded by the house, but made the best of my way to the cabin. To make matters worse, I was again off my "sea-legs," and was getting terribly sick.

Heavy Weather; the Sargasso Sea.

The gale continued until the end of the fourth day, and we were south of the deep blue waters of the Gulf Stream, when it abated somewhat, and though it continued to blow heavily, the sea was running more regularly, in long, even swells which made the motion of the bark less disagreeable, especially for me.

The studding sails were taken in, and the wind was hauled, in order that the Captain might be given an opportunity to determine our longitude.

The Captain found that we were not far off the course, as the wind had blown mostly from north, and northeast and east. The sails were trimmed, and, by sundown the wind veered around into the northwest and blew steadily, while the sea gradually subsided. We were now about two hundred miles to the eastward of Watling's Island, one of the Bahamas, also known as San Salvador, the first land in the New World discovered by Columbus. The stars shone bright, and the bark, rolling easily, plowed the warm waters of the sub-tropic sea. I remained with Mr. Sargent long on deck that night, watching the phosphorence of the water, which in these latitudes, is sometimes very brilliant.

The morning dawned upon a tropic sea, for the bark had made good progress during the night, and we were well abreast of the larger islands of the Bahamas. The breeze was soft and balmy, and the ocean a deep, crystal blue, of a hue never seen except in these southern latitudes. This is owing partly to the remarkable reflection of the sky but more to the extreme depth of the water. Myriads of flying fish rose in flocks from the water and fluttered away on both sides of the ship as the bark glided through the weeds of the Sargasso Sea. The Sargasso weed is a genus by itself, which, thrust away to the south by the mighty ocean currents, lies in a vast central pool, a great eddy between the Gulf Stream and the Equatorial current; and here it revolves. It is ocean born, and long ages have passed since it lost its habit of growing on the rocky sea-bottom. Forever floating it feeds among its branches whole families of crabs, cuttle-fish and mollusks, which like the plant itself, are found in no other seas.

The flying-fish interested me greatly, for I had read much about them. I noticed that their flight was as perfect as that of some kinds of birds, and that it very closely resembled that of the swallow, in that it was a skimming, circling flight. I had read that the flying-fish rarely leaves the water unless pursued by a shark or some other fish to which it is a prey; and that, on leaving the water it does not really fly, but, instead, emerges from the water on an upward plane, enabling it to skim along for some distance. I had read, also, that the fish is unable to remain in the air only while its wings are wet. This latter statement is undoubtedly correct; but I observed that its flight was perfect, the fish making use of its greatly elongated and highly developed pectoral fins, as wings. I saw them flying singly and in flocks or schools, when they were not pursued by sharks and I was thoroughly convinced that they did actually fly. They gyrated in the air exactly like swallows, and moved their wings very rapidly like birds. There seemed to be no limit to the length of their flight, for they would rise from beneath the bows and fly away in a continuous line until lost to sight in the distance.

Once one dropped upon the deck in the night and the cook broiled it, assuring us that its flesh was very delicate, much like that of a fresh water perch; and indeed, so it proved to be.

The Captain had taken a course much further to the eastward than he would ordinarily. Usually, in going to the Guianas, the route is through the Bahama group, by way of the Crooked Island Channel, thence through the Windward Passage, between Cuba and Haiti and across the Caribbean sea by the east end of Jamaica. But Mr. Sargent wished to go further to the eastward so as to pass among the Leeward Islands, perhaps landing there to await the return of the bark from the coast. This plan could be followed without detriment, as a little delay in reaching Guiana was more than likely to result in an improved market for the cargo. This explains the unusual course of the Ethelyn Hope.

A Terrible Storm; Leaving the Ship.

The weather continued fine for three days, after passing the latitude of San Salvador, with a fresh breeze blowing from the northwest, which sped the bark on her course so that she logged better than ten knots; but on the fourth day the wind swung around to the north and gradually hauled into the northeast, and the long, steady swells began to rise.

The Captain at once prepared for a gale and ordered the sails trimmed to meet it. That the apprehensions of the Captain were grave was proven by the precautions taken; for not only was sail shortened to the last extremity, but the hatches were securely battened down.

The barometer began to fall about noon, and from that time the wind increased until it was blowing a gale; but just after sunset the wind almost died away, though the mountainous foam-flecked seas continued.

As the sun went down the sky rapidly became overcast, and a cloud of inky blackness appeared along the horizon. As we stood watching it a long line of whiteness appeared between the sea and the black cloud, and stretched away far toward the east. Gradually the white line came nearer, until it proved to be a wall of foam. It was advancing toward the ship with great rapidity; and as it came nearer the air above it was seen to be filled with flying spray.

The wind began to freshen, and the sailors were hurrying about in obedience to the orders of the Captain, still shortening sail. All the upper sails were reefed.

Nearer and nearer came the wall of foam, and with a roar it struck the ship, and the storm broke in a perfect tornado.

The bark was careened until the lee scuppers were submerged; and the staunch craft shook from end to end. For an instant she seemed buried beneath the raging sea, and then rose and plunged into the next wave.

Mr. Sargent and I made haste to go below, where we remained holding ourselves in our berths while the ship reeled, plunged and groaned in every timber and plank.

A fearful report like the crack of a rifle told us that some sail had been carried away; and then followed others. At length, from a change in the ship's motion, we judged that the Captain was trying to put her about and run before the gale; but suddenly a fearful crash which seemed as though the bark had split from stem to stern was followed by a terrible rolling and plunging.

Crack! Crack! and the bark pitched and groaned worse than ever.

We heard the Captain making his way toward the cabin, and then saw him enter. His face wore a look of deep anxiety.

"The masts have gone," he said, "and the bark is unmanageable. You must prepare for the worst. We may have to take to the boats."

"At once, Captain?" asked Mr. Sargent.

"I cannot tell until the well is sounded; but I fear that she must founder."

At that moment the first mate entered the cabin and stated that the bark was leaking badly. The water was rising fast in the hold.

"We must remain on the ship to the last moment," said the Captain, "for a boat could not live in this sea."

The Captain returned to the deck, and how long we clung to the berths I cannot tell, for I was dazed by the peril which threatened us--Were we to be lost at sea, drowned, all hands?

The Captain again entered the cabin. "We must take to the boats," he said, "and Heaven help us."

We hastened on deck just as we were, half clothed, leaving everything behind. Nothing could be taken.

When we reached the deck we saw the Captain standing by the starboard boat. The other had been launched, and had instantly disappeared in the darkness and foaming water.

The Captain, first and second mate, Mr. Sargent and myself now alone remained on the bark.

We hurried into the boat. "We should not be far from one of the outlying islands of the Windward group," said the captain; "and if the boat can live in this sea until daylight we may reach one of the Virgin Islands."

The tackle was let go, and a great sea caught the boat. She was lifted up, and up, and up, and then sank, it seemed, into a fathomless abyss.

I saw the first and second mate bend to the oars. The Captain was in the stern. The boat careened and seemed to start suddenly upward on an inclined plane.

A rush of water enveloped her. I heard a roaring sound in my ears, and I knew no more.