Thrilling Narratives of Mutiny, Murder and Piracy: A weird series of tales of shipwreck and disaster, from the earliest part of the century to the present time, with accounts of providential escapes and heart-rending fatalities.Anonymous
History
Thrilling Narratives of Mutiny, Murder and Piracy: A weird series of tales of shipwreck and disaster, from the earliest part of the century to the present time, with accounts of providential escapes and heart-rending fatalities.
Anonymous
Mutiny; Pirates; Seafaring life; Shipwrecks
A new event, for everything was an event to wretches to whom the world
was reduced to the narrow space of a few toises, and for whom the
winds and waves contended in their fury as they floated above the
abyss; an event happened which diverted our minds from the horrors of
our situation. All on a sudden a white butterfly, of a species common
in France, came fluttering above our heads, and settled on our sails.
The first thought this little creature suggested was, that it was the
harbinger of approaching land, and we clung to the hope with a
delirium of joy. It was the ninth day we had been upon the raft; the
torments of hunger consumed our entrails; and the soldiers and sailors
already devoured with haggard eyes this wretched prey, and seemed
ready to dispute about it. Others looking upon it as a messenger from
Heaven, declared that they took it under their protection, and would
suffer none to do it harm. It is certain we could not be far from
land, for the butterflies continued to come on the following days, and
flutter about our sail. We had also on the same day another indication
not less positive, by a Goeland which flew around our raft. This
second visitor left us no doubt that we were fast approaching the
African soil, and we persuaded ourselves we would be speedily thrown
upon the coast by the force of the currents.
This same day a new care employed us. Seeing we were reduced to so
small a number, we collected all the little strength we had left,
detached some planks on the front of the raft, and, with some pretty
long pieces of wood, raised on the centre a kind of platform, on which
we reposed. All the effects we could collect were placed upon it, and
rendered to make it less hard; which also prevented the sea from
passing with such facility through the spaces between the different
planks, but the waves came across, and sometimes covered us
completely.
On this new theatre we resolved to meet death in a manner becoming
Frenchmen, and with perfect resignation. Our time was almost wholly
spent in speaking of our unhappy country. All our wishes, our last
prayers, were for the prosperity of France. Thus passed the last days
of our abode upon the raft.
Soon after our abandonment, we bore with comparative ease the
immersions during the nights, which are very cold in these countries;
but latterly, every time the waves washed over us, we felt a most
painful sensation, and we uttered plaintive cries. We employed every
means to avoid it. Some supported their heads on pieces of wood, and
made with what they could find a sort of little parapet to screen them
from the force of the waves; others sheltered themselves behind two
empty casks. But these means were very insufficient: it was only when
the sea was calm that it did not break over us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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