FAMINE ON SHIPBOARD.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2304, 22 August 1881, Page 3

FAMINE ON SHIPBOARD.

(From the London “ Daily Telegraph.)

On Friday, April Bth, a steamer named the Nebo, when about 500 miles to the eastward of the Florida coast, sighted a barque whose appearance induced Captain Gordon, the master of the Nebo, to approach her. When the Nebo drew near, her people noticed a group of men standing around the davits of one of the quarter boats, some of them gesticulating and motioning with their arms as though they called aloud, though no sounds, audible on board the Nebo, came from them, whilst others were busy with the boat’s falls, but their movements were terribly languid and slow, and their white faces and tottering figures gave the skipper of the Nebo the impression of their being a crew who had been struck down by some dreadful malady, but had managed to crawl from their hammocks and bunks on learning that a vessel was abreast of them. Presently a boat was lowered, and all the men who were visible got into her, one by one, some of them dropping from the side of the barque, like dead flies from a ceiling, as though their nerveless hands refused to support the weight of their bodies. There never was a more ghastly freight than that boat contained, and as she slowly approached, with the oars rising and falling irregularly, the men of the Nebo watched her with horror. A man sitting in the stem-sheets staggered to his feet as the boat came along and flourished an object that was presently noticed to be the akin of an animal. All the people who wore watching knew what he meant to signify by this. But, indeed, his figure told the dreadful story of famine. His face was quite bloodless, his eyes frightfully bright, his features pinched as though they had been squeezed under a heavy weight, and the arm that forked out of the loose sleeve might have been a skeleton’s, as it waved the shocking symbol of starvation as a mute plea for help. The occupants of the boat were counted, and they were found to number thirteen. A short ladder was thrown over the steamer’s side, and the miserable men climbing it slowly were caught by the arms and supported over the gangway. The skin that the man, who proved to be the captain of the barque, had waved was now seen to be that of a dog. “ That’s been all our food for five days—thirteen of us,” one of the men said in a faint voice; indeed, they could barely articulate, they could hardly support themselves on their legs. Their clothes hung upon them like the garments upon scarecrows ; they had all the same wasted, wild, white appearance, and the delirious rolling and sparkling of the eyes. The crew of the Nebo immediately carried the poor creatures into the forecastle, whilst Captain Gordon conducted the skipper into the cabin. They ate ravenously, and it was a most moving sight to see them raising the food with tremulous hands to their mouths, and then breaking off to give vent to a hundred passionate gestures of gratitude for the food and drink supplied them. Of all the men, the captain appeared to have suffered most. To the anguish of starvation had been added the bitter hopeless struggle with successive gales of wind, the responsibility of his having the men’s lives in his charge, and his utter powerlessness to preserve them and himself from a slow and torturing death. He related his story to Captain Gordon whilst the crew of the Nebo were executing certain humane directions which bad been given by their commander, and though it is impossible to repeat it in the exact words ha used, any more than it would be possible to put before you his sunken, bloodless face, bis weak, tremulous voice, and the various expressions of countenance and agitated motions of the hands, which communicated an indescribable pathos to his language, yet the substa ce of his narrative is faithfully preserved in the subjoined account, which he gave to Captain Gordon, of the suffering of the crew and officers of the Tiger:— “ Wo sailed from Liverpool on December 4th, bound for Baltimore, and we carried a light wind with us for about eighty miles, and then it died away. It was a long calm that followed, enough to make me wonder at such a thing at that time of the year, and then a head wind sprung up. We got away on the port tack, and reached for some hours, and then stood away on the starboard tack, and hold on till dusk, when the wind dropped again. This went on for four or five days, as regularly, I may say, as the strokes of a bell; first a breeze of wind dead ahead, then a calm, then the breeze right ahead again, and so on. In all that time, sir, I didn’t make more than forty miles of true way. But who could have imagined it was only just the beginning ? For my part, every time I came on deck I counted upon finding a shift of wind and the barque heading her course. Then we got a start, and that carried us a bit forward, and then it breezed up ahead again, and so it went on, air, the weeks—aye, the weeks, captain, not the days —finding us struggling with head winds that were sometimes moderate enough to lot us carry royals, and sometimes heavy gales which forced us to lie to under a single topsail. It was my first experience of this kind of thing. Once when I was second mate wo were seven weeks from Boston to the Mersey, but that was from port to port, and a fearfully long voyage it was, too, as I thought then. But now we had been out two months, and as far off from the American coast as we had been three weeks before. Some of the hands were for coming aft and begging me to try back for England. This was told me by the mate. Ho said they were dreadfully down hearted and low, and feared that if this went on mueh longer the provisions would give out. This thought had haunted me, too, sir, but it was nonsense to talk of going back ; we were half-way across the Atlantic, anyway, and I told the men this, and that it would be a poor job to go back, for that would bo like going in search of a fair wind, and that though we shifted our helm, wo couldn’t swear that we shouldn’t be just as much bothered and hindered. And so I held the men to it, though, God knows, as the time went on and I found that I couldn’t drive the vessel against the cursed weather, I would sometimes feel that I had done the men a heavy wrong in not acting as they asked, and taking my chance with the owner. Better to lose a score of certificates than have a hand in the sufferings of your fellow-creatures. It seemed like tempting Providence to go on fighting that weather. Yet I know my orders. I bad to carry the vessel to Baltimore, and I kept her nose at it with a bleeding heart, as I may say, always looking around and around for a change of wind and saying to myself, it’ll bo fair to-morrow—and to-morrow—and hoping my best, and telling the men not to mind, and that another week would do it, until I was filled with despair, and had no hope left in me, and not a word of encouragement for the men. And now see the wonder of the weather we’ve been fighting with. Seven weeks ago this very day 1 took an observation. It was Friday, the 25th of February. We’d been shoved along for some days by a gale of wind from the norrard and eastward, very thick weather all the time, and no sights to be got. Th. gale broke on the Thursday, and we went ahead under a main topgallant-sail, and all hands bustled about freshly and heartily, for we all knew that the American coast could not be far off. Well, towards noon on that Friday it fell calm, and I got an observation, and when I worked it out I sent the mate forward to tell the men that the vessel was within fourteen miles of Cape Henry. I went on deck, and found the crew on the forecastle looking and looking for the land, and when they saw mo they gave a kind of cheer. There was pretty nearly a dead calm, but a haze in the north-west, right ahead of us, and a strong westerly swell. I had been as full of life and spirits as a little child, but when I saw that haze which had gathered whilst I was below, or which at all events had not been very visible when I quitted the deck, my heart seemed to drop dead in my breast. I shall never forget the feeling that was going to happen. I saw the men looking at me cheerfully, but presently the mate came up and asked me if I wasn’t afraid of a change of weather. Ho spoke in a kind of broken voice, ‘ For God’s sake say nothing about it.’ I answered, with a feeling that if one so much as spoke of it, it would come—so simp o and wcakminded does suffering make us all. ‘Here, 1 I said, ‘turn the hands up to s)-orten sail,’ and whilst this was doing, the wind came down in small angry puffs. I braced up sharp to it, but before the mainsail and ’ topgallantsuils were off her the upper topsails wore too much canvas, so quick it came and so hard. It blew all the life out of the men. Of course they knew where the land ought to be, and that the wind was dead on end, and they fell to work like machines, surly and cursing, with their teeth set, and flinging the rigging about as if they would dash open the decks. And now, as I had reckoned, a whole tempest of wind opened upon us, and foot by foot, mile by mile, it blew us back again into the open ocean, straining our ship terribly, keeping us drenched through to the

bones day and night, and killing the very minds in us, so that we had no heart, no hope, no courage left. Seven weeks ago, sir, this very day. God preserve me ! the thought scalds my throat; but I have no strength for tears.

“It was in the first week of March that what we had all feared came to pass. It was on a Sunday morning that the cook came to me and said that provisions were very low, not enough, ho said, to last all hands another four days on the regular allowance I said nothing, but went below, he after me, and then I saw with my own eyes that what he had said was true, and, what was worse still, our fresh water would not hold out as long as the food. I came back and spoke to the mate, and then called the crew aft and told them our situation regarding the food and water, and that we should have to go on very short allowance. I fancy their hardships and bitter disappointments, and the gale that was then blowing made them insensible, as if nothing worse could happen than what they were going through. May be, they couldn’t fully realise what short allowance meant, with a prospect of nothing behind, though when they were in belter health they had over and over again feared running short of food and water. Take notice of that, captain, for it shows what my men had sunk to. It was like offering to stab a man when he’s banging by the neck and dying that way. They were too far gone to be scared by a new trouble. We went upon short allowance, and as I foresaw the water gave out first. On March 31st — nine days ago, as you may call it, dating from this hour—l served out the last drop of fresh water there was aboard the vessel. Whilst the pannikin went round I prayed to God that a ship would sight us that day, that something would happen to take our awful sufferings from ns. Tou’ve seen the men—they’re broken down, poor creatures, now by famine, not so dreadful to look at as when the last of the water went round, and they knew that there was no more to be got. How little people who live ashore know of what goes on at sea! For four days we scraped along—parched ! parched ! —and then there was nothing more to eat. Oh, sir, I know now what thirst is. In all suffering there is no like of it for pain. It was shocking to see the fresh green foaming water alongside and feel that it could not be drunk of. The men would go about the deck hunting for the gleam of dew when the night came, and I saw one man throw himself once upon his belly and put his tongue to the water in the scuppers, as though fancying that the bitterness would have been chafed out of it by the jumping of the ship, I bod two pet animals aboard—a dog and a cat. I loved the dog more than the cat. I had had him a long while ; he knew all my habits ; and when the torture of thirst was strongest on me I'd see hla soft eyes watching me as sorrowfully as any human soul’s, though his own sufferings, as I reckoned by the eight of his tongue, were enough to have made him fly at me. The day after our provisions had given out the men came aft, and said they must kill my dog. They were raging with thirst and hunger, they said, and they must kill him. I fought hard for his life. I told them to wait through the night, and give my dog a chance, for a ship might come in the morning. N0,.n0; they must kill him. One man opened his mouth for me to look ; it was full of froth ; he could not speak, but he pointed to the dog and then at bis mouth, and it made me sick, sick, and I slunk away aft, hiding my face. They killed the dog—but I’ll say no more of that, captain. On that same day two ships passed. We signalled them with the ensign at the peak. Union down ; but they went by, and took no notice—though bring me face to face with their captain before my Maker, and I’ll say they saw us, and knew we were in distress, and could have saved as had they chosen. Hunger and thirst were maddening ns. I’ll tell yon one of our shifts. We had some oil for the side lights and binnacle lamp. We took off our boots and out out squares of leather, and soaked the pieces in the oil, and put them into our mouths. Ah ! believe me, we did, sir; but none of us could swallow. My throat felt as if a band were upon it outside squeezing it like a vice. It was dreadful to bear our husky voices. My own frightened me, and once trying to speak to a man, I was so shocked by the sound 1 made that 1 stopped short, and then burst into tears, the first time I had cried for years and years. On the day before the Nebo hove in sight some of the men seemed to go mad altogether. They wore all about me. Suffering had levelled all distinction ; we were like dead men for that matter. I heard one man, in the dreadful gasping voice that was common to us all, advise the others to kill themselves; he was willing to die, be said, and would kill himself first if the others would follow. Two or. three looked at him, and listened as if they would do it. His frightful words, I fancy, put a thought into the heads of some of them. ‘ No, no,’ said one ; ‘if a man’s willing to die, let him die for his mates.’ I knew what the wretch meant, and tried to speak, but I could not move my tongue. Another said, ‘ Let’s draw lots,’ I clenched my fist and held it up, and beat the air with it as if striking him, shaking my head as fiercely as 1 could, and then I found my voice, for I said, with a strange rattle, ‘ Better for each man to kill himsel .’ This awed them, and they were quiet, and presently some of them went away and fell to prowling about the deck, casting their eyes about them like wild beasts. That night passed. I lay down making sure I should never see the sun rise again. I lay on the cabin floor, but never closed my eyes. Over and over again I was going on deck to see if a ship was in sight. I grew delirious, I think, at one time, yet there was a deal of sense in my wanderings ; for I remember wondering why I clung to life so eagerly, what there was in it to make me so passionate to keep it; how poor a thing it was when the want of a cup of water and a piece of bread made it an agony, and then I remember fancying that I stood looking into a cool well, and seeing the water gleaming in it, and trying to reach down so as to scoop up a mouthful with my hand, until the agony of thirst drove mo on to my feet, and for the twentieth time I went on deck to look about me for the help that hadn’t come for weeks and weeks. But it came at last; for soon after daybreak I spied—and I think I was the first to see it—the smoke of a steamer right away astern. I knew by looking at the compass that she must be coming our road, and I called to the men and they all ran aft in a tottering way, and there we stood in a crowd watching. Would she pass us without taking notice F that was our thought. Bit by bit she was hove up, and then we saw that she headed in such a way that she must see us; and soon after her hull was clear upon the horizon we noticed that she shifted her helm so as to run down close to us. Our sufferings were almost worth having for the joy we now felt. We waited and watched as she drew closer and closer to us, and then, when we thosght she was close enough to see, we all tossed up our arms, and I ran for the skin of my poor dog that lay just abreast of the galley, and brought it aft and waved it, that they might guess our dreadful extremity by the sight of it. Presently I saw, when they were upon our quarter, that they had stopped the engines, and then we went to work to lower the boat.”

This ended the poor fellow’s story, for the rest of it was known. While he had been relating it the crow of the Nebo, obediently to the orders of Captain Gordon, had been loading a couple of the steamer’s boats with flour, bread, beef, beans, water and other provisions. All being ready the captain and crew of the barque came on deck, but before entering their boats they turned to the master and men of the Nebo, and overwhelmed them with thanks, some of them hugging the Nebo’s men and crying like children. They en' ered tl o r boat and shoved off, raising a feeble cheer as they went, and when the people of the Nebo took their last look at the barque she was heading towards Cape Henry with a favourable wind, with her courses and topsails set. So terminated an incident of maritime life which I am proud of the opportunity to relate at length, because it enables me to add one more item to the long catalogue of deeds of noble humanity performed by the masters and crews of British vessels. As a memorial of an adventure full of extraordinary pathos, as it seems to me, Captain Gordon—a name honorable henceforth in maritime story—preserves the skin of the dog. No spoil indeed, but an honorable trophy. As a seafarer let me thank him for an act that distinctly advances our common calling, and greatly helps the claims upon the recognition of our country of ‘ Mercantile Jack,' whose merits and obscure sufferings I am never weary of extolling and describing.