Narrative of the Voyage of H.M.S. Rattlesnake, Commanded By the Late Captain Owen Stanley - Volume 2 - John MacGillivray (best novels of all time .txt) 📗

but that it was a long way off, that we could not get there to-night, but that we must camp in the bush, and get there to-morrow. It here became necessary to pause. The ship was left with two hands only in her, anchored in shallow water, and the Captain said promptly that he could not proceed farther without great risk of losing the ship, either from its coming on to blow, or that natives may attack her in their canoes; (here I may say what has been omitted, namely, that in the early part of the morning we saw and examined a canoe close to where we first landed, and found part of a cloak in it, which Jackey immediately pronounced as belonging to the white men at the camp) and it was determined, well considering all circumstances, to return to the ship, which we did, coming out on the beach under mangroves, at the very spot we told Jackey to come out at on our leaving. We arrived at the ship at twelve minutes before four P.M. During our absence the men in the boat had seen on the beach from fifty to one hundred natives. We saw none. The day has been very hot, and we are in a fix, surrounded by reefs, and some little anxiety is existing as to how we shall get out again. We have determined to proceed to Weymouth Bay, and in so doing I have taken everything into consideration. We have eight men to attend to at Weymouth Bay. In all probability the three men here are dead, for when Jackey left them, Costigan was nearly dead, and Luff was very ill. The cloak taken from the canoe shows that the blacks have found their camp, and had we gone on there, which would have taken a day or two at least more, we should only have found, I verily believe, as Jackey says, "bones belonging to whitefellows." After getting on board, Jackey went to sleep, thoroughly done up. He fell asleep also in coming off in the boat.

Thursday, December 28.

This has been a day of anxiety. We left a little after daylight, not without feelings of disappointment and dissatisfaction at not having been successful in rescuing the men, who it was possible might be yet alive. We were surrounded by reefs, a light breeze, and fair depth of water-called out by the leadsman, 2, 2 1/2, 2, 3 fathoms, until after some time we got into deeper water, and passed out of the Bay in safety. Not a fire had been seen on the shore all night, nor was there a native to be seen this morning from the vessel. We passed numerous islands, until the Piper Islands came in sight. We calculated upon making them for our anchorage, but a squall came on, and the wind shifted, and we were compelled to anchor at half-past seven P.M., in fifteen fathoms water, near a reef. Some native fires were seen on the coast to-day. I find the native on board understands and speaks the same language as the Port Albany blacks, and repeats all their names to me. He eats and drinks heartily, and lends apparently a most willing hand towards securing himself with the leather straps.

Friday, 29th December.

Left our anchorage at daylight in the morning; passed between the Piper Islands and Bald Head. When off Fair Cape saw a smoke on the shore, and three natives, who immediately disappeared in the scrub and were seen no more. On rounding the Cape it became a dead calm, and it was intensely hot; we saw a smoke and a large fire ahead of us. Jackey recognised the land and said the smoke was at the mouth of a river which Mr. Kennedy and he had crossed after leaving the camp. The land where the camp and eight men were Jackey pointed out ahead of us, opposite to Weymouth Bay; a heavy squall and thunderstorm with rain came on very suddenly, and beyond the mouth of the river, with the camping-hill ahead of us, we came to an anchor, between two and three o'clock P.M.; could not see any flagstaff on the hill pointed out by Jackey, and which hill is very conspicuous and bald, nor could we see any symptom of living beings along the coast in the bay. It was too great a distance to land to-night, and the Captain said if it came on to blow the boat could not be got back again. Employed the other part of the day in looking through the glass and with the naked eye to see the flagstaff and flag, or any other sign (Jackey having informed us they would have a flag on the top of the hill) but none was to be seen, not a native, and I have reason to believe every one of the eight have been sacrificed; it looks suspicious not seeing a native, for Jackey says they used to bring fish to the camp, and there were plenty of them. The Captain is to take the ship in as near as possible to the hill, and it is determined to go on shore with the same party who assisted us at Shelburne Bay, and go up to the camp to-morrow well armed. All this evening a solemn, silent, inexpressible gloom; no rockets, no gun, no fire, to-morrow will tell a tale.

Saturday, 30th December, 1848.

At daylight this morning the ship was got underweigh, and sailed nearer in towards the hill which Jackey had pointed out as being the hill where "camp sit down," and anchored in about two fathoms of water about half a mile off the land. Five canoes were now seen creeping off towards us from under the mangroves, with from five to ten natives in each (there was yet no flag or any token of white people on the hill); the canoes gradually neared in a string, and one came cautiously alongside, making signs and saying "ferraman, ferraman," "white man, white man," and pointing towards Jackey's mountain. We were at first doubtful whether they were disposed to be friendly or not, and afterwards seeing some children with them and one or two females, we concluded they were disposed to be friendly, and that they knew the parties at the camp. A few lines were written to the party at the camp, stating a vessel was in the bay, and the bearer, one of the natives, would take them to it. This was given to one of the natives in the first canoe, and Jackey, whom the natives recognised, beckoned and motioned to them to take the note to the camp. In the meantime the Captain and I had determined as soon as the boat could be got ready, to proceed according to Jackey's instructions to the camp. The boat left with our party, and Jackey directed us some distance off in the wake of the canoes, there being nothing but a mangrove swamp on the shore near us. We landed beside of a creek knee-deep in water, among some mangroves. Here we got out of the boat, Jackey, the Captain, Barrett, and myself, Tom, the sailor, who had accompanied us before, saying he could not go, that he had a bad leg. We were a little disappointed here, but said nothing, and proceeded, Jackey leading, myself, the Captain, and Barrett following, through a mangrove swamp, for some considerable distance, all well armed. Getting out of the swamp we came upon a beautiful flat, and followed up a creek which Jackey said would lead up to the camp. After getting on (keeping a good lookout) for about two miles, Jackey doubled his pace, and all at once said with great emphasis, "I see camp." "Well done, Jackey," I think was exclaimed by all of us at the same moment. Jackey, still going on at a sharp pace, stopped for a moment and said, "I not sure, I believe it is hole through tree," and suddenly, with greater excitement than before, he exclaimed, "See two whitefellows sit down, and camp." We were now on one side of the creek: down the creek we went, and up on the other side in double-quick time, and a scene presented itself. On the side of the hill, not two hundred yards from us, were two men sitting down, looking towards us, the tent and fire immediately behind them; and on coming up to them, two of the most pitiable creatures imaginable were sitting down. One had sufficient strength to get up; the other appeared to be like a man in the very last stage of consumption. Alas! alas! they were the only two left of the eight, the remainder having died from starvation. Whilst here we were considering what was best to be done, when natives in great numbers were descried watching our movements. Jackey said, "Doctor," calling me aside, "now I tell you exactly what to do, you see those blackfellows over there" (and in pointing to them I saw a great number, some eight hundred yards away, peeping from behind trees) "you leave him tent, everything, altogether there, and get the two whitefellows down to the boat quick." Jackey was exceedingly energetic, and grave as well. Get away as quick as possible, was resounded by all, but what was to be done-two men almost dead to walk two or three miles. We looked over the tent, asked Carron for what important things there were, and each laid hold of what appeared to be of most value, the Captain taking two sextants, other parties firearms, etc., etc. "Come along," again and again Jackey called out, and the Captain too, whilst they were halfway down towards the creek, and Barrett and I loaded ourselves. I took a case of seeds, some papers of Carron's, a double gun and pistol, which, together with my own double gun and brace of pistols, thermometer, and my pockets full of powder and shot, was as much as I could manage. Seeing Carron could not get along, I told him to put his hands on my shoulders, and in this way he managed to walk down, as far as nearly through the mangrove swamp, towards the water's edge, when he could not in that way possibly get any further, and Barrett, with his disabled arm, carried him down to the edge of the water. Goddard, the other survivor, was just able to walk down, spoke, and looked exceedingly feeble. They were brought on board at noon, and attended to according to my instructions. Carron's legs were dreadfully swollen, about three times their natural size, from oedema. In the afternoon both reviving and thanking God for their deliverance. I was for some time afraid of Carron. At ten P.M.-they are both doing well, and, I trust, will be enabled to tell their own tale, which renders it unnecessary for me to write it down here. I told the Captain to proceed direct on to Sydney. Jackey, Carron, and Goddard, and the Captain, stating it would be running too great a risk to go to recover anything from the tent, moreover, with so small a party as the Captain, Jackey, and myself (Barrett really being unfit to go) and the sailors all refusing to go. I consider the Captain deserves considerable credit for his actions throughout in exerting himself to rescue the survivors.

Sunday, December 31.

At daylight got underweigh and took our departure from Weymouth Bay for Sydney. Carron and Goddard were some considerable time in getting better; the former being subject to daily fits of ague, etc., etc.

Thursday, January 11, 1849.

The black native had made his escape during the night, whilst it was raining and blowing hard; we were at this time anchored about one and a half or two miles from Turtle Reef, and a