“I don’t know where I
was born for, as I daresay Randle has told
you, I was only five years of age when I was picked
up at sea in a boat, the only other occupant of which
was a Swedish seaman. The vessel which rescued
us was one of the transports used for conveying convicts
to New South Wales, and was named the Britannia,
but when she sighted the boat she was on a voyage
to Tahiti in the Society Islands. I imagine this
was sometime about 1805, so I must now be about seventy
years of age.
“The Swedish sailor told the
captain of the Britannia that he and I were
the only survivors of a party of six among
whom were my father and mother belonging
to a small London barque named the Winifred,
She was employed in the trade between China and Valparaiso,
and my father was owner as well as captain. On
the voyage from Canton, and when within fifty miles
of Tahiti, and in sight of land, she took fire, and
the Chinese crew, when they saw that there was no
hope of the ship being saved, seized the longboat,
which had been prepared, and was well provisioned,
and made off, although the cowardly creatures knew
that the second boat was barely seaworthy. My
father whose name the Swede did not know implored
them to return, and at least take my mother and myself
and an officer to navigate their boat to land.
But they refused to listen to his pleadings, and rowed
off. The second boat was hurriedly provisioned
by my father and his officers, and they, with my mother
and myself and the Swede all the Europeans
on board left the burning ship at sundown.
A course was steered for the eastern shore of Tahiti,
which, although the wind was right ahead, we hoped
to reach on the evening of the following day.
But within a few hours after leaving the barque the
trade wind died away, and fierce, heavy squalls burst
from the westward upon the boat, which was only kept
afloat by constant bailing. About dawn the sea
had become so dangerous, and the wind had so increased
in violence, that an attempt was made to put out a
sea-anchor. Whilst this was being done a heavy
sea struck the boat and capsized her. The night
was pitchy dark, and when the Swede who
was a good swimmer came to the surface
he could neither see nor hear any of the others, though
he shouted loudly. But at the same moment, as
his foot touched the line to which the sea anchor
was bent, he heard the mate’s voice calling for
assistance.
“‘I have the child,’ he cried.
‘Be quick, for I’m done.’
“In another minute the brave
fellow had taken me from him; then the poor mate sank,
never to rise again. Whether I was alive or dead
my rescuer could not tell, but being a man of great
physical strength, he not only kept me above water
with one hand, but succeeded in reaching first the
sea-anchor-four oars lashed together and
then the boat, which had been righted by another sea.
“How this brave man kept me
alive in such a terrible situation I do not know.
By sunrise the wind had died away, the sea had gone
down, and he was able to free the boat of water.
In the stern-sheet locker he found one single tin
of preserved potatoes, which had been jammed into a
corner when the boat capsized all the rest
of the provisions, with the water-breakers as well,
were lost. On this tin of potatoes we lived so
he told the master of the Britannia for
five days, constantly in sight of the land around
which we were drifting, sometimes coming to within
a distance of thirty miles of it. All this time,
by God’s providence, we had frequent heavy rain
squalls, and the potato tin, which was about eighteen
inches square, and was perfectly water-tight, proved
our salvation, for the potatoes were so very salt that
we would have perished of thirst had we been unable
to save water. Ohlsen cut down one of his high
sea-boots, and into this he would put two handfuls
of the dried potatoes, and then fill it up with water.
It made a good sustaining food after it had been softened
by the water and kneaded into a pulp.
“An hour before dawn, on the
sixth day, Ohlsen, who was lying on the bottom boards
of the boat, was awakened by hearing me crying for
my mother. The poor fellow, who had stripped
off his woollen shirt to protect my little body from
the cold, at once sat up and tried to comfort me.
The sea was as smooth as glass, and only a light air
was blowing. Drawing me to his bare chest for
I was chilled with the keen morning air he
was about to lie down again, when he heard the creaking
of blocks and then a voice say, ‘Ay, ay, sir!’
and there, quite near us, was a large ship! In
a moment he sprang to his feet, and hailed with all
his strength; he was at once answered, the ship was
brought to the wind, a boat lowered, and in less than
a quarter of an hour we were on board the Britannia.
“On that dear old ship I remained
for five years or more, for the captain had his wife
on board, and although she had two young children
of her own, she cared for and loved me as if I had
been her own daughter. Most of this time was
spent among the Pacific Islands, and then there came
to me another tragedy, of one of which I have a most
vivid remembrance, for I was quite eleven years old
at the time.
“The Britannia, like
many South Seamen of those times, was a letter of
marque, and carried nine guns, for although we were,
I think, at peace with Spain, we were at war with
France, and there were plenty of French privateers
cruising on the South American coast, with whom our
ships were frequently engaged. But none had ever
been seen so far eastward as the Galapagos Islands,
and so we one day sailed without fear into a small
bay on the north-west side of Charles Island to wood
and water.
“On the following morning the
captain, whose name was Rossiter, ordered my old friend
Ohlsen, who was now gunner on the Britannia,
to take four hands and endeavour to capture some of
the huge land tortoises which abound on the islands
of the group. I was allowed to go with them.
Little did I think I should never again see his kindly
face when I took my seat in the boat and was rowed
ashore. Besides Ohlsen and myself, there were
two English seamen, a negro named King and a Tahitian
native. The youngest of the English sailors was
named Robert Eury; he was about twenty-two years of
age, and a great favourite of the captain who knew
his family in Dorset, England.
“We hauled the boat up on a
small sandy beach, and then started off into the country,
and by noon we had caught three large tortoises which
we found feeding on cactus plants. Then, as we
were resting and eating, we suddenly heard the report
of a heavy gun, and then another and another.
We clambered up the side of a rugged hill, from the
summit of which we could see the harbour, a mile distant,
and there was the Britannia lying at anchor,
and being attacked by two vessels! As we watched
the fight we saw one of the strange ships, which were
both under sail, fire a broadside at our vessel, and
the second, putting about, did the same. These
two broadsides, we afterwards heard, were terribly
disastrous, for the captain and three men were killed,
and nine wounded. The crew, however, under the
mate, still continued to work her guns with the utmost
bravery and refused to surrender. Then a lucky
shot from one of her 9-pounders disabled the rudder
of the largest Frenchmen, which, fearing to anchor
so near to such a determined enemy, at once lowered
her boats and began to tow out, followed by her consort.
At the entrance to the bay, however, the smaller of
the two again brought-to and began firing at our poor
ship with a 24-pounder, or other long-range gun, and
every shot struck. It was then that the mate and
his crew, enraged at the death of the captain, and
finding that the ship was likely to be pounded to
pieces, determined to get under weigh and come to close
quarters with the enemy, for the Britannia was
a wonderfully fast ship, and carried a crew of fifty-seven
men. But first of all he sent ashore Mrs. Rossiter,
her two children, a coloured steward, and all the
money and other valuables in case he should be worsted.
His name was Skinner, and he was a man of the most
undaunted resolution, and had at one time commanded
a London privateer called the Lucy, which had
made so many captures that Skinner was quite a famous
man. But his intemperate habits caused him to
lose his command, and he had had to ship on the Britannia
as chief mate. He was, however, a great favourite
with the men, who now urged him to lead them on and
avenge the loss of the captain; so the moment the
boat returned from landing Mrs. Rossiter he slipped
his cable, and stood out to meet the enemy.
“We, from the hill, watched
all this with the greatest interest and excitement,
and then Ohlsen turned to the others and said, ’Let
us get back to the boat at once. The captain
has got under weigh to chase those fellows, and we
should be with him.’
“So we descended to the beach,
where we met the poor lady and her children, and heard
that her husband was dead. She begged Ohlsen not
to leave her, but he said his duty lay with his shipmates;
then she besought him to at least leave Robert Eury
with her, as she was terrified at the idea of having
to spend the night on such a wild island with no one
but the coloured steward to protect her and her children.
At this time although we could not see them we
knew the ships were heavily engaged, for the roar
of the cannon was continuous. So, much to his
anger, young Eury was bidden to remain with the captain’s
wife, her son aged twelve, her daughter Ann, who was
three years younger, the coloured steward, and myself.
Then, bidding us goodbye, Ohlsen and his three men
went off in the boat, and were soon out of sight.
“Young as he was, Robert Eury
had good sense and judgment. He was angry at
Mr. Skinner venturing out to attack such well-armed
vessels with our poor 9-pounders, and although he
had been most anxious to join his shipmates, he was,
he afterwards told me, pretty sure that the Britannia
would have to strike or be sunk. The first thing
he did, however, was to make all of our party comfortable.
At the head of the bay there was an empty house, which
had been built by the crews of the whaleships frequenting
the Galapagos as a sort of rest-house for the men
sent to catch tortoises. To this place he took
us, and set the steward to work to get us something
to eat, for Mr. Skinner had sent provisions and wine
ashore. Then he took the ship’s money, which
amounted to about thirteen hundred pounds, and buried
it a little distance away from the house. I helped
him, and when the bags were safely covered up he turned
to me with a smile lighting up his brown face.
“’There, Molly. That’s
done, and if Mr. Skinner has to strike, and the Frenchmen
come here, they’ll get nothing but ourselves.’
“By this time it was well on
towards the afternoon, and we only heard a cannon
shot now and then. Then the sound of the firing
ceased altogether. We got back to the house and
waited we knew not for what. Poor
Mrs. Rossiter, who was a very big, stout woman, had
sobbed herself into a state of exhaustion, but she
tried to brace herself up when she saw us, and when
Robert Eury told her that he had buried the money,
she thanked him.
“’Try and save it for
my children, Robert I fear I shall not be long with
them. And if I am taken away suddenly I want you
to bear witness that it was my husband’s wish,
and is mine now, that Mary here is to share alike
with my son Fred and my daughter Ann. Would to
God I had means here to write.’
“Robert tried to comfort her
with the assurance that all would be well, when as
he spoke we saw a sight at which I, girl of twelve
as I was, was struck with terror the two
French ships appeared round the headland with the
Britannia following with French colours at her
peak. The three came in together very slowly,
and then dropped anchor within a cable’s length
of the beach. The captain’s wife looked
at them wildly for a moment, and then fell forward
on her face. She died that night.
“The two French captains treated
us very kindly, and they told Robert, who spoke French
well, that Mr. Skinner had made a most determined
attempt to board the larger of the two vessels, but
was killed by a musket-shot, and that only after thirty
of the Britannia’s crew had been killed
and wounded, and the ship herself was but little more
than a wreck, did Ohlsen, who was himself terribly
wounded by a splinter in the side, haul down his flag.
Then the elder of the two Frenchmen asked Robert which
was the child named ‘Marie.’
“‘This is the child, sir,’ said
Eury, pointing to me.
“‘Then let her come with
me and see the gunner of our prize,’ said he;
‘he is dying, and has asked to see her.’
“I was taken on board the Britannia,
over her bloodstained decks, and into the main cabin,
where poor Ohlsen was lying breathing his last.
His face lit up when he saw me, and he drew me to
his bosom just as he had done years before in the
open boat off Tahiti. I stayed with him till
the last, then one of the French privateer officers
led me away.
“In the morning Mrs. Rossiter
was buried; the French captains allowing some of the
surviving members of the crew of the Britannia
to carry her body to her grave. There was a young
Spanish woman the wife of the older captain on
board the larger of the privateers, and she took care
of us three children. I cannot remember her name,
but I do remember that she was a very beautiful woman
and very kind to us, and told us through an interpreter
that we should be well cared for, and some day go home
to England; and when she learned my own particular
story she took me in her arms, kissed, and made much
of me.
“About noon the crew of the
Britannia were ranged on deck, and the elder
of the two French captains called on Robert Eury to
step out.
“‘This man here,’
he said in English, indicating the coloured steward,
tells me that you have buried some money belonging
to the prize. Where is it?’
“‘I cannot tell you,’
replied Robert; ’the captain’s wife told
me it belonged to her children and to the little girl
Mary.’
“The Frenchman laughed.
’It belongs to us now; it is prize money, my
good boy.’
“Eury looked at him steadily, but made no answer.
“’ Come,’ said the captain impatiently,
‘where is it?’
“‘I cannot tell you.’
“The younger of the captains
laughed savagely, and stepped up to him, pistol in
hand.
“‘I give you ten seconds to tell.’
“‘Five will do, monsieur,’
replied Robert, in French, ’and then you will
be losing five seconds of your time. I shall not
tell you. But I should like to say goodbye to
my dead captain’s children.’
“’The young Frenchmen’s
face purpled with fury. ’Very well then,
you fool!’ and he raised his pistol to murder
the young man, when the older captain seized his arm.
“’Shame, Pellatier, shame!
Would you kill such a brave man in cold blood?
Let us be satisfied with getting such a good ship.
Surely you would not shoot him for the sake of a few
hundred dollars?’
“‘There may be thousands.
How can we tell?’ replied Pellatier.
“Robert laughed, and then raised
his hand in salute to the elder captain.
“’Captain Pellatier is
right, sir. Madame Melville told me that there
were thirteen hundred pounds in the bags which I have
buried. And on certain conditions I will tell
you where to find it.’
“‘Name them.’
“’The money is fair prize
money. That I admit. But you will never see
it, unless you agree to my conditions, and pledge me
your word of honour to observe them honourably.
I am not afraid to die, gentlemen.’
“’You are a bold fellow,
and ought to have been a Frenchman but be
quick, name the conditions.’
“’Half of the money to
be given to these orphan children, whose pitiable
condition should appeal to you. And promise me
on your honour as men that you will land them at Valparaiso,
or some other civilised place, from where they may
reach England. If you will not make this promise,
you can shoot me now.’
“‘And what of yourself?’
said Pellatier, who was a little dark man with very
ugly monkey-like features; ’you would be the
guardian of this money, no doubt, my clever fellow.’
“The insulting manner in which
he spoke exasperated Eury beyond endurance, and he
made as if he would strike the man; but he stopped
suddenly, and looking contemptuously at the Frenchman
uttered the one word
“‘Babouin!’
“It nearly cost him his life,
for Pellatier, stung to fury by the loud laughter
of his fellow-captain, again levelled his pistol at
the young man, and again the older captain seized
his arm.
“‘By Heaven, you shall
not harm him!’ he cried, amid a murmur of applause
from the crew. Then addressing Eury he said.
I give you my promise. The children and yourself
are under my protection, and when we reach Valparaiso
I will put you all on shore.’ Then he ordered
one of his officers to escort Robert ashore and get
the money.
“Eury thanked him quietly, and
then he turned to Pellatier, and said he was sorry
he used an offensive word to him; but Pellatier received
his apology with a scowl, and turned away. In
half an hour Eury returned with the officer, carrying
the money. It was counted and divided, and it
was easy to see that Dupuis, the elder captain, was
very pleased when the young man asked him to take
charge of the half of the money belonging to the Rossiter
children and myself.
“The three ships sailed in company
for South America a week later. I remained on
board the Britannia together with Robert Eury
and six others of her original crew, the Rossiter
children being taken by the Spanish lady on board
the larger of the privateers, the second lieutenant
of which, with about twenty men, were drafted to the
prize. After keeping in close company for four
or five days we lost sight of the privateers, much
to the annoyance of our captain, who was a very indifferent
navigator, as he soon showed by altering his course
to E. by S. so as to pick up the coast of South America
as soon as possible. This was a most fortunate
thing for us, for at daylight on the following morning
two sail were seen, not five miles distant, and to
our intense delight proved to be English letters of
marque the barque Centurion of Bristol
and the barque Gratitude of London. They
at once closed in upon and engaged us, and although
the Frenchmen made a good fight, they had to strike
after a quarter of an hour’s engagement, for
the Centurion was a very heavily armed ship.
“Her captain was a very old
man named Richard Glass. He came on board the
Britannia and spoke very good-humouredly to
the French lieutenant, for on neither side had any
one been killed, and he saw that the Britannia
was a fine ship. He told the Frenchmen to take
the longboat, and as much provisions and water as
they liked, and make for the coast, which was less
than seventy miles distant. This was soon done,
and our former captors parted from us very good friends,
every one of them coming up and shaking hands with
Robert Eury and calling him bon camarade.
“Captain Glass put his own chief
officer in charge of the Britannia (with Robert
as his mate) and ordered him to proceed to Port Jackson
and await the arrival there of the Centurion
and her consort. We arrived at our destination
safely, and as soon as my story was known many kind
people wanted to adopt me; but the agent of the Britannia
took me to his own home, where I lived for many happy
years as a member of his family. Robert Eury
was then appointed mate of a vessel in the China trade,
but I saw him every year. Then when I was seventeen
years of age he asked me to marry him, and I did so
gladly, for he was always present in my thoughts when
he was away, and I knew he loved me.”