Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 18th century -- Fiction; Nore Mutiny, 1797 -- Fiction
There are situations in human life of such powerful excitement, and in
which the mechanism of the human frame becomes so rapid in its motion,
that the friction of a few days will wear it out. The harrowed feelings
of these poor creatures on the wreck, during the short time that they
remained, had a greater effect in undermining the constitution than many
years of laborious occupation on shore.
Fellow-countrymen, if you are at all interested with the scenes I am now
describing, and which, if you have any feeling, you must be (however
imperfect the description), let the author, a sailor himself, take this
favourable opportunity of appealing to you in behalf of a service at
once your protection and your pride. For its sake, as well as your own,
listen not to those who, expatiating upon its expense, and silent upon
its deserts, would put a stop to hardly earned promotion, and blast with
disappointment the energies of the incipient hero. And may those to
whom the people at large have delegated their trust, and in whom they
have reposed their confidence, treat with contempt the calculations, and
miscalculations, of one without head and without heart!
Daylight again, as if unwillingly, appeared, and the wild scud flew past
the dark clouds, that seemed to sink down with their heavy burdens till
they nearly touched the sea. The waves still followed each other
mountains high; the wind blew with the same violence; and as the stormy
petrels flew over the billows, indicating by their presence that the
gale would continue, the unfortunate survivors looked at each other in
silence and despair.
I know not whether all seamen feel as I do; but I have witnessed so many
miraculous escapes, so many sudden reverses, so much, beyond all hope
and conception, achieved by a reliance upon Providence and your own
exertions, that, under the most critical circumstances, I never should
despair. If struggling in the centre of the Atlantic, with no vessel in
sight, no strength remaining, and sinking under the wave that boiled in
my ear, as memory and life were departing,--still, as long as life _did_
remain, as long as recollection held her seat, I never should abandon
Hope,--never believe that it is all over with me,--till I awoke in the
next world, and found it confirmed.
What would these men have valued their lives at in the morning? Yet at
noon a change took place: the weather evidently moderated fast; and
silence, that had reigned for so many hours, lost his empire, and the
chances of being saved began to be calculated. A reef of rocks, many of
them above water, over which the breakers still raged, lay between the
wreck and the shore, and the certainty of being dashed to pieces
precluded all attempts at reaching it, till the weather became more
moderate and the sea less agitated. But when might that be?--and how
long were they to resist the united attacks of hunger and fatigue?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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