CHAPTER I✦

A Shipwreck, and Preparations for Deliverance

Already the tempest had continued six days; on the seventh its fury seemed still increasing; and the morning dawned upon us without a prospect of hope, for we had wandered so far from the right track, and were so forcibly driven toward the southeast, that none on board knew where we were. The ship’s company were exhausted by labour and watching, and the courage which had sustained them was now sinking. The shivered masts had been cast into the sea; several leaks appeared, and the ship began to fill. The sailors forbore from swearing; many were at prayer on their knees; while others offered miracles of future piety and goodness, as the condition of their release from danger. “My beloved children,” said I to my four boys, who clung to me in their fright, “God can save us, for nothing is impossible to Him. We must however hold ourselves resigned, and, instead of murmuring at His decree, rely that what He sees fit to do is best, and that should He call us from this earthly scene, we shall be near Him in heaven, and united through eternity. Death may be well supported when it does not separate those who love.”

My excellent wife wiped the tears which were falling on her cheeks, and from this moment became more tranquil: she encouraged the youngest children who were leaning on her knees; while I, who owed them an example of firmness, was scarcely able to resist my grief at the thought of what would most likely be the fate of beings so tenderly beloved. We all fell on our knees, and supplicated the God of Mercy to protect us; and the emotion and fervour of the innocent creatures are a convincing proof that even in childhood devotion may be felt and understood, and that tranquillity and consolation, its natural effects, may at that season be no less certainly experienced. Fritz, my eldest son, implored, in a loud voice, that God would deign to save his dear parents and his brothers, generously unmindful of himself: the boys rose from their posture with a state of mind so improved that they seemed forgetful of the impending danger. I myself began to feel my hopes increase, as I beheld the affecting group. Heaven will surely have pity on them, thought I, and will save their parents to guard their tender years!

At this moment a cry of “Land, land!” was heard through the roaring of the waves, and instantly the vessel struck against a rock with so violent a motion as to drive every one from his place; a tremendous cracking succeeded, as if the ship were going to pieces; the sea rushed in, in all directions; we perceived that the vessel had grounded, and could not long hold together. The captain called out that all was lost, and bade the men lose not a moment in putting out the boats. The sounds fell on my heart like a thrust from a dagger: “We are lost!” I exclaimed, and the children broke out into piercing cries. I then recollected myself, and, addressing them again, exhorted them to courage, by observing that the water had not yet reached us, that the ship was near land, and that Providence would assist the brave. “Keep where you are,” added I, “while I go and examine what is best to be done.”

I now went on the deck. A wave instantly threw me down, and wetted me to the skin; another followed, and then another. I sustained myself as steadily as I could; and looking around, a scene of terrific and complete disaster met my eyes: the ship was shattered in all directions, and on one side there was a complete breach. The ship’s company crowded into the boats till they could contain not one man more, and the last who entered were now cutting the ropes to move off. I called to them with almost frantic entreaties to stop and receive us also, but in vain; for the roaring of the sea prevented my being heard, and the waves, which rose to the height of mountains, would have made it impossible to return. All hope from this source was over, for, while I spoke, the boats, and all they contained, were driving out of sight. My best consolation now was to observe that the slanting position the ship had taken would afford us present protection from the water; and that the stern, under which was the cabin that enclosed all that was dear to me on earth, had been driven upwards between two rocks, and seemed immovably fixed. At the same time, in the distance southward, I descried through clouds and rain, several nooks of land, which, though rude and savage in appearance, were the objects of every hope I could form in this distressing moment.

Sunk and desolate from the loss of all chance of human aid, it was yet my duty to appear serene before my family: “Courage, dear ones,” cried I on entering their cabin, “let us not desert ourselves: I will not conceal from you that the ship is aground; but we are at least in greater safety than if she were beating upon the rocks; our cabin is above water; and should the sea be more calm to-morrow, we may yet find means to reach the land in safety.”

What I had just said appeased their fears; for my family had the habit of confiding in my assurances. They now began to feel the advantage of the ship’s remaining still; for its motion had been most distressing, by jostling them one against another, or whatever happened to be nearest. My wife, however, more accustomed than the children to read my inmost thoughts, perceived the anxiety which devoured me. I made her a sign which conveyed an idea of the hopelessness of our situation; and I had the consolation to see that she was resolved to support the trial with resignation. “Let us take some nourishment,” said she; “our courage will strengthen with our bodies; we shall perhaps need this comfort to support a long and melancholy night,”

Soon after night set in; the fury of the tempest had not abated; the planks and beams of the vessel separated in many parts with a horrible crash. We thought of the boats, and feared that all they contained must have sunk under the foaming surge.

My wife had prepared a slender meal, and the four boys partook of it with an appetite to which their parents were strangers. They went to bed, and, exhausted by fatigue, soon were snoring soundly. Fritz, the eldest, sat up with us. “I have been thinking,” said he, after a long silence, “how it may be possible to save ourselves. If we had some bladders or cork-jackets for my mother and my brothers, you and I, father, would soon contrive to swim to land.”

“That is a good thought,” said I; “we will see what can be done.”

Fritz and I looked about for some small empty firkins; these we tied two and two together with handkerchiefs or towels, leaving about a foot distance between them, and fastened them as swimming-jackets under the arms of each child, my wife at the same time preparing one for herself. We provided ourselves with knives, some string, some turfs, and other necessaries which could be put into the pocket, proceeding upon the hope, that if the ship went to pieces in the night, we should either be able to swim to land, or be driven thither by the waves.

Fritz, who had been up all night, and was fatigued with his laborious occupations, now lay down near his brothers, and was soon asleep; but their mother and I, too anxious to close our eyes, kept watch, listening to every sound that seemed to threaten a further change in our situation. We passed this awful night in prayer, in agonizing apprehensions, and in forming various resolutions as to what we should next attempt. We hailed with joy the first gleam of light which shot through a small opening of the window. The raging of the winds had begun to abate, the sky was become serene, and hope throbbed in my bosom, as I beheld the sun already tinging the horizon. Thus revived, I summoned my wife and the boys to the deck to partake of the scene. The youngest children, half forgetful of the past, asked with surprise, why we were there alone, and what had become of the ship’s company? I led them to the recollection of our misfortune, and then added, “Dearest children, a Being more powerful than man has helped us, and will, no doubt, continue to help us, if we do not abandon ourselves to a fruitless despair. Observe, our companions, in whom we had so much confidence, have deserted us, and that Divine Providence, in its goodness, has given us protection! But, my dear ones, let us show ourselves willing in our exertions, and thus deserve support from heaven. Let us not forget this useful maxim, and let each labour according to his strength.”

Fritz advised that we should all throw ourselves into the sea, while it was calm, and swim to land.--“Ah! that may be well enough for you,” said Ernest, “for you can swim; but we others should soon be drowned. Would it not be better to make a float of rafts, and get to land all together upon it?”

“Vastly well,” answered I, “if we had the means for contriving such a float, and if, after all, it were not a dangerous sort of conveyance. But come, my boys, look each of you about the ship, and see what can be done to enable us to reach the land.”