Narrative of the shipwreck of the brig Betsey, of Wiscasset, Maine, and murder of five of her crew, by pirates,: on the coast of Cuba, Dec. 1824. — John Shaqi
Narrative of the shipwreck of the brig Betsey, of Wiscasset, Maine, and murder of five of her crew, by pirates,: on the coast of Cuba, Dec. 1824.Collins, Daniel
History
Narrative of the shipwreck of the brig Betsey, of Wiscasset, Maine, and murder of five of her crew, by pirates,: on the coast of Cuba, Dec. 1824.
Collins, Daniel
Caribbean Area -- History; Pirates; Shipwrecks
The next and fourth Key, being about another mile distant, I swam
to. This day I kept on about the same course, South Westerly, and
crossed three more small Keys, about a mile distant from each
other. I had now arrived at the seventh and last Key; on this I
passed the night, having prepared a kind of flake of old roots,
on which I slept soundly, for the first time out of water, since
I left Cruz del Padre. Between day-light and sun-rise, having
eaten of the green leaves as before, and having been refreshed by
sleep, I departed from the last Key; by this time so weak that I
could scarcely walk. The water was not so deep but I could wade
until within half a mile of what afterward proved to be Cuba;
but of which I was ignorant at the time.
While I was crossing this last passage, I had to contend with a
strong current probably from the mouth of the very river I
afterward forded; and when but a few rods from the shore a
_Shark_ approached within a rod; but to my great joy, he turned
and left me.
I had now swam about nine miles beside the distance I had
travelled through mud and water, and the hunger and thirst I had
endured, having tasted neither food nor drink, except a few salt
leaves of mangroves, during my flight. And to add to my
sufferings, my almost naked body was covered with moschetoes,
attracted by the blood and sores produced by my escape from Cruz
del Padre.
Observing that this shore varied a little from those I had
passed, I followed it in an Easterly direction, which was
reversing my former course, for nearly two miles, when I came to
a large yawl, with her foremast standing. As I set me down on her
gun-wale, the thought struck my mind that this boat, like our
own, might have preserved some unfortunate crew from the fury of
the storm, in order to offer them up to the pitiless Pirate, who,
perhaps, had not suffered a solitary individual to escape and
say, that the vengeance of man, on these encrimsoned shores, had
sacrificed those whom the mercy of God had spared amid the
dangers of his "mighty deep." While I was employed by these
reflections, the gnawings of hunger were suddenly aroused by the
appearance of two Craw-fish under the stern sheets; one of
which, I caught and devoured with such greediness, that it was
very soon rejected; and although I at first thought I could have
eaten a dozen of them, the exhaustion, produced by my efforts to
vomit, destroyed all relish for the other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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