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
Slept comfortably this night and the next day, the idea of death
vanishing by degrees, the prospect of being prisoners, during the war,
at the Havana, and walking three hundred miles to it through the
woods, was rather unpleasant. However, to save life for the present,
we employed this day in getting more provisions and water on shore,
which was not an easy matter, on account of decks, guns and rubbish,
and ten feet water that lay over them. In the evening I proposed to
Sir Hyde to repair the remains of the only boat left, and to venture
in her to Jamaica myself; and in case I arrived safe, to bring vessels
to take them all off; a proposal worthy of consideration. It was, next
day, agreed to; therefore got the cutter on shore, and set the
carpenters to work on her; in two days she was ready, and at four
o'clock in the afternoon I embarked with four volunteers and a
fortnight's provision, hoisted English colors as we put off from the
shore, and received three cheers from the lads left behind, which we
returned, and set sail with a light heart; having not the least doubt,
that, with God's assistance, we should come and bring them all off.
Had a very squally night, and a very leaky boat, so as to keep two
buckets constantly bailing. Steered her myself the whole night by the
stars, and in the morning saw the coast of Jamaica distant twelve
leagues. At eight in the evening arrived at Montego Bay.
I must now begin to leave off, particularly as I have but half an hour
to conclude; else my pretty little short letter will lose its passage,
which I should not like, after being ten days, at different times,
writing it, beating up with the convoy to the northward, which is a
reason that this epistle will never read well; as I never set down
with a proper disposition to go on with it; but as I knew something of
the kind would please you, I was resolved to finish it; yet it will
not bear an overhaul; so don't expose your son's nonsense.
But to proceed--I instantly sent off an express to the admiral,
another to the Porcupine man of war, and went myself to Martha Bray to
get vessels; for all their vessels here, as well as many of their
houses, were gone to Moco. Got three small vessels, and set out back
again to Cuba, where I arrived the fourth day after leaving my
companions. I thought the ship's crew would have devoured me on my
landing; they presently whisked me up on their shoulders and carried
me to the tent where Sir Hyde was.
I must omit many little occurrences that happened on shore, for want
of time; but I shall have a number of stories to tell when I get
alongside of you; and the next time I visit you I shall not be in such
a hurry to quit you as I was the last, for then I hoped my nest would
have been pretty well feathered:--But my tale is forgotten.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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