THE CAPTAIN'S STORY.

At the close of the war with Great Britain, in the year 1815, I took command of the brig Ganges, owned by Ebenezer Sage, Esq., then a wealthy and respectable merchant at Middleton. I sailed from New York on the 20th of August, bound for Turk's Island for a cargo of salt, and, on the 5th of September, I arrived at my destined port. It being the season for hurricanes in that region, it was thought most safe for us to go around into a small harbor on the south side of the island. In order to reach this harbor, we had to go through a narrow, crooked channel, with rocks and dangerous reefs on every side, but, with a skillful pilot, we made our way through safely, and came to anchor. On the next day we commenced taking in our cargo of salt. On the 9th of September, a day that I shall ever remember, my pilot came to me somewhat agitated, and said that there were strong indications of an approaching hurricane, and advised me to make all possible preparations to encounter it.

We therefore quit taking in salt, and made every thing about the ship snug as possible. At twelve o'clock, midnight, the gale commenced, as the pilot had antic.i.p.ated, and continued to increase until six in the morning, at which time it became most terrific. Every blast grew more and more violent until our cables all parted, and we were left to the mercy of the gale. It blew directly from the land. We got the ship before the wind, as the only course we could pursue. In doing this we were well aware of the dangerous channel we had to pa.s.s, and my only hope was, that we might get to sea clear of the land. But this hope soon vanished. In about twenty minutes after we started, the ship struck a rock, which knocked off her rudder, and set her leaking badly. The rudder being gone, we of course had no control of the vessel. She came around side to the wind, and at this moment her mainmast was blown over the side. We at once cut away the rigging that attached it to the hull, and it floated off, and the foremast still standing, the ship swung off again a little before the wind. All hands were soon set to pumping, but we found that in spite of all our exertions, the water rapidly increased in the hold.

The appearance of the elements at this time almost baffles description.

So violent was their commotion that no one could stand without grasping something for support. Not a word could be heard that was uttered. I had to communicate every order by means of signs, while I stood on the quarter-deck holding on to the cabin doors. In this situation I endeavored calmly to reflect. Here we were, as we supposed, on the open ocean,--in a tempest of unparalleled violence--with no rudder--one mast gone--boats all lost--and the ship settling under us from the weight of water in the hold. The sky was black almost as midnight above us, and the waves beneath, and around, and over us--for they dashed at quick intervals, like so many furies, across the devoted ship--seemed ready to drown us ere we sank into their dread abyss. The voice of the gale as it howled through the rigging, mingled with the creaking of timbers, and the roar of waters as they struck the vessel, was an awful wail, as it appeared to me, over bodies devoted to almost instant death. Destruction seemed inevitable. It would not, to all human calculation, be protracted even an hour. We were sinking down, down--inch following inch of the fated vessel in rapid succession--down remedilessly to our graves in the maddened sea, amid the monsters of its great deep.

I descended to the cabin, and attempted calmly to surrender myself to Him who made me. My thoughts--oh, how they flew at once to my wife and children at home! I attempted to pray, and for the first time since I had left my pious mother. I _did_ pray--for my family first--and oh how fervently, in closing my supplications, I besought for myself pardon and forgiveness through Him who is ever ready to hear the penitent!

The water had now got on to the cabin floor, I therefore placed myself on the stairs leading on deck. Shortly after this the wind shifted, and in a few minutes the ship struck with a tremendous crash. I rushed on deck, and at once saw rocks fifty feet high, and perpendicular, but a few feet from the after part of the ship, which now soon filled with water, and rolled over toward the land. At its fore part, and at the only point where we could by any possibility have been saved, the rocks descended gradually, and the foremast leaned over them. Not a moment was to be lost. We crawled up the rigging, and, swinging ourselves on to the rocks, made our way up the precipice on our hands and feet, and, reaching the summit, at once sought, in holes in the rock, shelter from the tempest, which still continued so violent that no one could stand upon his feet.

Our escape happened about ten o'clock in the morning; at five in the afternoon the gale had so moderated that we could stand. We then crawled out from our hiding places, and, a.s.sembling together, found that all were safe except my brother, who was mate of the ship, and he, we supposed, was lost, in attempting to get on sh.o.r.e. We soon, as was very natural, approached the precipice to learn the fate of the ship. Nothing was to be seen of her but plank, timbers, spars, sails, and rigging, all in one confused, broken ma.s.s, and washing up against the rocks. It was truly to us a most deplorable spectacle. We had no resource in the vessel; not a thing of value was left.

As night was approaching, we now walked along before the wind toward the south part of the island, and there found, by the side of a huge pile of rocks, a hole or sort of cave, about eight feet square and five feet high. Here we all crawled in, wet and cold, but with hearts grateful to G.o.d for our wonderful preservation. As we were packed very close to each other, the natural warmth of our bodies soon relieved us considerably from the sensation of wetness and cold, and we pa.s.sed the night as comfortably as our varied miseries would allow.

Morning came, and we left our cave. The gale had much abated, and we could see some distance. We found that we were on a small desolate island, about a mile long, half a mile wide, and about ten miles from the place we left the day before. It was covered mostly with huge rocks, with here and there a small patch of soil, overrun with p.r.i.c.kly pear, and inhabited by no living animal excepting lizards and small poisonous snakes. We had been now over twenty-four hours without food or water. Of the latter article, on searching around, we found a little in the hollows on the rocks, but it was about half salt, having been made so by the spray which the gale had thrown from the ocean quite over the island, and the more we drank of it the more thirsty we became. As to food, we were soon convinced that this was out of the question. Toward night, we found a cask near the beach, standing on one end, with one head out, which held about two gallons of water, that had rained in.

This was not salt, but smelled badly. We, however, scooped out with our hands about one half of it, and left what remained for the next day. We got some relief from this, and then we returned to our former resting-place for the night.

When we crawled out on the following morning we found that the weather had become fine and clear. We could see vessels pa.s.sing at a short distance from us, but had no means of making any signal, nor any for leaving the sh.o.r.e. This being the third day of our distress and privation, some of us began to suffer much from hunger. Others suffered more from thirst. We, however, cheered each other with the faint hope that some thing would appear for our relief. We wandered about as we had done the day before, seeking for water but found none. We had nothing to dig with but our hands; these we used, but in vain; no water appeared.

Toward night we went to the cask, and drank what remained there. We then returned again to our cave for the night, all much exhausted and low-spirited. Despair began to shade every countenance. Very little was said, and we pa.s.sed the night well as we could, pressed by hunger and parched by thirst. Morning came, and again we all left our shelter. The weather continued fine and clear. The men again separated in search of water, but being myself very feeble, I took my seat on some rocks near the cave, at a point from whence I could see every thing moving on the water, and with a lingering hope that something would appear for our deliverance.

About ten o'clock, an object loomed up in the distance. I thought it was a boat, but could not at once tell. It approached, and soon I saw it distinctly. It _was_ a boat, with one sail, and was steering directly for a low beach not far from where I was seated. My feelings at this moment were so overcome that I lost all power of utterance. I could not, at first, rise from the rock, My strength, however, shortly returned a little, and I got up and made all the noise I could. Some of the men near at hand heard me, and came up. I at once pointed to the boat, which was now near the sh.o.r.e. They shouted to their companions, and we were all soon at the beach near where the boat was landed. A black man got out of the boat, and came to me with a letter--but, before reading it, I besought him for water. To my surprise he had none, but instead of it had a bottle of rum and a small bag of biscuit. I told him to bring these on sh.o.r.e, and, taking them, I gave each of my crew a swallow of the rum and a biscuit. This had the effect of moistening a little our parched mouths and tongues. I then opened the letter. It was from my warm and faithful friend Mr. Tucker, of Turk's Island, and it read as follows, omitting my name:

"To Captain ----, or any other unfortunate person or persons who may be found on any of the neighboring islands. Come as many as can safely and, should any be left, I will find means to convey those that remain."

The two men, who came in the boat, hesitated about taking all of us at once, as we were nine in number, and with themselves might overload the boat. We could not, however, bear the thought of leaving any behind. We therefore all got aboard, shoved off, and made sail. We had a fair wind, and a smooth sea, and at six o'clock arrived safely at the harbor we had left. Many persons ran to the beach to meet us as we landed, and among the rest was our deliverer, Mr. Tucker.

The next morning, my friend and deliverer gave me a brief history of what had taken place with himself and his fellow-inhabitants on the island, during the gale. Many of their houses were levelled to the ground, and some were blown into the sea. Their cisterns, their only dependence for water, were mostly destroyed. Even the cannon mounted on a small battery were dismounted, and most of the inhabitants were in great distress. Every vessel and boat, that floated about the island, were blown to sea or destroyed. Out of the twenty vessels that were at the island on which Mr. Tucker lived, when the gale came on, only six were heard ever from after. Five out of these six were wrecked on adjacent islands, and every soul on board three of these perished. The gale was said, by the oldest inhabitants, to be the most violent ever known in that region. We remained on the island ten or twelve days, and then, taking pa.s.sage in a ship bound for New York, reached that city safely on the last of November.

A TUSSLE WITH A WILDCAT.

In 1781, Lexington, Ky., was only a cl.u.s.ter of cabins, one of which, near the spot where the courthouse now stands, was used as a schoolhouse. One morning, in May, McKinley, the teacher, was sitting alone at his desk, busily engaged in writing, when, hearing a slight noise at the door, he turned and beheld an enormous wildcat, with her fore feet upon the step, her tail curled over her back, her bristles erect, and her eyes glaring rapidly about the room, as if in search of a mouse.

McKinley's position at first completely concealed him, but a slight and involuntary motion of his chair attracted the cat's attention, and their eyes met, McKinley, having heard much of the powers of "the human face divine," in quelling the audacity of wild animals, attempted to disconcert the intruder by a frown. But puss was not to be bullied. Her eyes flashed fire, her tail waved angrily, and she began to gnash her teeth. She was evidently bent on mischief. Seeing his danger, McKinley hastily rose, and attempted to s.n.a.t.c.h a cylindrical rule from a table which stood within reach, but the cat was too quick for him.

Darting furiously upon him, she fastened upon his side with her teeth, and began to rend and tear with her claws. McKinley's clothes were soon in tatters, and his flesh dreadfully mangled by the enraged animal, whose strength and ferocity filled him with astonishment. He in vain attempted to disengage her from his side. Her long, sharp teeth were fastened between his ribs, and his efforts served but to enrage her the more. Seeing his blood flow very copiously from the numerous wounds in his side, he became seriously alarmed, and, not knowing what else to do, he threw himself upon the edge of the table, and pressed her against the sharp corner with the whole weight of his body.

The cat now began to utter the most wild and discordant cries, and McKinley, at the same time, lifting up his voice in concert, the two together sent forth notes so doleful as to alarm the whole town. Women, who are generally the first to hear and spread news, were now the first to come to McKinley's a.s.sistance. But so strange and unearthly was the harmony within the schoolhouse, that they hesitated long before venturing to enter. At length, the boldest of them rushed in, and, seeing poor McKinley bending ever the corner of the table, she at first supposed that he was laboring under a severe fit of the colic; but quickly perceiving the cat, which was now in the agonies of death, she screamed out, "Why, good heavens, Mr. McKinley, what is the matter?"

"I have caught a cat, madam!" he gravely replied, turning round, while the sweat streamed from his face under the mingled operations of fright, fatigue, and pain.

Most of the neighbors had now arrived. They attempted to disengage the dead cat; but so firmly were her tusks locked between his ribs, that this was a work of no small difficulty. McKinley suffered severely for a time from the effects of his wounds, but at length fully recovered, and lived to a good old age. He was heard to say, that of all the pupils that ever came to his school, the wildcat was the most intractable; that he would at any time rather fight two Indians than one wildcat.

AN INCIDENT IN FRONTIER LIFE

A daughter of Boone's, and a Miss Galloway, were amusing themselves in the immediate neighborhood of the fort, when a party of Indians rushed from a canebrake, and, intercepting their return, took them prisoners.

The screams of the terrified girls quickly alarmed the family. Boone hastily collected a party of eight men, and pursued the enemy. So much time, however, had been lost, that the Indians had got several miles the start of them. The pursuit was urged through the night with great keenness by woodsmen capable of following a trail at all times. On the following day they came up with the fugitives, and fell upon them so suddenly and so furiously as to allow them no leisure for tomahawking their prisoners. The girls were rescued, without having sustained any other injury than excessive fright and fatigue. The Indians lost two men, while Boone's party was uninjured.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PURSUIT]

FEMALE INTREPIDITY.

In 1782, Wheeling was besieged by a large number of British and Indians.

So sudden and unexpected was the attack, that no time was afforded for preparation. The fort, at the period of the a.s.sault was commanded by Colonel Silas Zane. The senior officer, Colonel Ebenezer Zane, was in a blockhouse some fifty or a hundred yards outside of the wall. The enemy made several desperate a.s.saults to break into the fort, but at every onset they were driven back. The ammunition for the defence of the fort was deposited in the blockhouse, and there had not been time to remove it before the Indians approached.

On the afternoon of the second day of the siege, the powder of the fort was nearly exhausted, and no alternative remained, but for some one to pa.s.s through the enemy's fire to the blockhouse, in order to obtain a supply. When Silas Zane made the proposition to the men, asking if any one would undertake the hazardous enterprise, all at first were silent.

After looking at one another for some time, a young man stepped forward, and said he would undertake the errand. Immediately, half a dozen offered their services in the dangerous enterprise.

While they were disputing as to who should go, Elizabeth, sister of the Zanes, came forward and declared, that she would go for the powder. Her brother thought she would flinch from the enterprise, but he was mistaken. She had the intrepidity to dare, and the fort.i.tude to accomplish the undertaking. Her brother then tried to dissuade her from her heroic purpose, by saying that a man would be more fleet, and consequently would run less risk of losing his life.

She replied, that they had not a man to spare from the defence of the fort, and that if she should fall, she would scarcely be missed. Then divesting herself of such articles of clothing as would impede the celerity of her flight, she prepared to start.

The gate was opened, and Elizabeth bounded out at the top of her speed, and ran until she arrived at the door of the blockhouse. Her brother, Colonel Zane, hastened to open the door to his intrepid sister. The Indians did not fire a gun, but exclaimed, as if in astonishment, "_Squaw! squaw! squaw_!"

When she had told her errand, her brother took a tablecloth, fastened it around her waist, and poured into it a keg of powder. She then sallied back to the fort, in high spirits. The moment she was outside of the blockhouse, the whole of the enemy's line fired at her, but the shower of b.a.l.l.s fell without doing her any injury. She reached the fort in safety, and the garrison was, in consequence, enabled successfully to repel their savage foe. Such an instance of female daring is worthy of all commemoration.

FEARFUL ENCOUNTER WITH ROBBERS.

The Madrid papers recite the particulars of a terrific scene which took place on the 14th of August, 1851, at the house of Don Diego Garcia, an old n.o.bleman, who resided in the vicinity of that capital:

The night was dark and tempestuous. The rain poured down in torrents, and induced the night-watch, who had been reinforced since the recent augmentations of crime in the environs of the capital, to keep close to their quarters. The roads were completely deserted, and at long intervals only the shadow of a human figure flitted past the huge portals of Don Diego's mansion, in anxious haste toward its habitation.

Juan Munoz, the Don's old valet, had been sent to this city, by his master, and was now making the best of his way home. His errand to the capital had been to procure some medicine which his master had been ordered to take, he being at the time violently afflicted by the gout.

Juan, as we have said, was picking his way, as best he could, through the deluged streets and roads, when, just as he came in sight of the mansion, he heard the voices of a number of men behind him, and supposing them to be a party of his fellow-servants who had been sent in search of him, since he had been much later than he expected to be, he drew back into an open recess to await their approach. He discovered that he was deceived in his expectations; the men were strangers to him, or, at least, he did not know their voices, but, while pa.s.sing him, he plainly heard the name of his master p.r.o.nounced by one of their number, and, stepping forward, he asked if they wished to see Don Diego that night. The men seemed perfectly stupefied by his sudden apparition, but they soon recovered from their surprise, and, after ascertaining that he was alone, he was politely asked to go before them and show the way.

Scarcely had he proceeded a dozen yards; when a violent blow on the head laid him prostrate; a knife was then twice thrust into his breast, and the lifeless body was hurled into the middle of the road.

It was close upon midnight, when the wife of Don Diego, while tending her sick husband, was startled by a noise from the adjoining room. She immediately rang the bell, and was answered by the major domo, the only servant who had not retired to rest, being determined to await the return of Juan. As he entered, the door leading to the ante-chamber was also quickly opened, and on the threshold appeared five masked men, who were evidently unprepared to find more than one inmate in the sick chamber. Quick as thought the major-domo attempted to reach the bell-rope, that by a violent alarm he might awake the sleepers and obtain their aid, but quicker even than he was the leader of the masked band, who seized a pistol from his belt, and, with unerring aim, discharged it at the devoted servant. There was a faint cry: the old servant stretched out his hands for support, and then, with a heavy groan, fell to the floor, where death closed his eyes.

This unexpected catastrophe seemed to spur on the robbers to instant work. While one man was posted at each door, the three others insisted upon being informed by Don Diego where he kept his money and valuables; but the sick old man had sank into so complete a lethargy by the dreadful event which had pa.s.sed under his eye, that he was unable to answer them. As rapidity of movement was, however, rendered peremptory to insure the safety of the band, the chief addressed the Donna for the same purpose, in answer to which, she evinced but little reluctance, and bade them to follow her. The robbers at once declared their readiness, and, after pa.s.sing along the corridor, entered the dining saloon, where the Donna pointed out a large box, which, she said, contained the plate.

Here another difficulty arose. The box, which in reality contained the plate, was securely locked, and the key nowhere to be found. Anxious to get at the rich booty, the leader, with an angry imprecation, put the muzzle of his heavy horse-pistol to the lock; a sharp report followed, and the lid thus unceremoniously opened offered no further obstacle to the rapacity of the invaders. Donna Ign.a.z.ia took advantage of the joyful excitement of the band, and left the room to descend into the lower story of the mansion, where her hurried summons at the chamber doors of the servants were readily responded to by them, as they had already been awoke by the double report in their master's apartments. The tempest, which had raged so fearfully, had meanwhile ceased; the torrents of rain were followed by a clear night; the fury of the elements appeared as though, in momentary rest, they would gather strength for a fresh outbreak--nature's wrath had given place to the wrath of man.

The inanimate body of Juan Munoz had been discovered by a patrolling body of soldiery, who carried it to the guard-house. The stabs were found to be of minor consequence, and the blow on the head, although it had caused a very severe wound, had occasioned only a temporary loss of consciousness. It must be borne in mind, that two hours had nearly elapsed between the a.s.sault upon Munoz and the entrance into the house by the robbers, which time had probably been spent by them in various efforts to gain access. Strong restoratives, judiciously applied, soon brought back animation, and, shortly afterward, Munoz could give a confused narrative of what had befallen him. The officer on duty at once saw through the scheme, and gave orders to proceed to the mansion of Don Diego, which they reached at the precise moment when Donna Ign.a.z.ia, with an armed body of her own servants, was leading them to the dining saloon. The summons of the officer at the front door was followed by a dead silence on the part of the robbers: but when they heard the measured tramp of the soldiery on the stair-case, they sought for means of instant flight. This, however, had been provided for; a portion of the military had surrounded the house, while the others, reinforced by the servants, approached. The only chance then left to the brigands was to cut their way through, or sell their lives as dearly as possible. In an instant the huge oaken doors of the saloon were closed and barred, the lights were extinguished, the windows opened, and everything made ready for the last desperate chance. Fortune favored them; for the soldiery, not antic.i.p.ating a leap of their enemies from the high windows, withdrew their sentinels from there in order to make them guard the side and rear outlets of the mansion. Two of the bold ruffians had already made their descent by means of tablecloths, tied together, when the alarm was given. The soldiers rushed to the spot--a third robber was clinging to the frail chance for life, and was rapidly descending, but a well-directed shot bereft him of strength, and, after a few frantic efforts to retain his hold, he fell heavily to the ground. His two comrades made a firm stand: but vain was their boldness against the numbers of a.s.sailants, and in a few moments they fell, grievously wounded, into the hands of the victors.

Two more only remained of this desperate band, and the fact of their being shielded by strong bolts ma.s.sive walls, rendered them no insignificant enemies. Ladders were placed against the windows, but the true aim of the keen-eyed brigands made four successive shots tell with appalling effect, since each of them laid low one of their a.s.sailants.

At last an attack upon the doors was resolved upon, and soon the heavy blows of the ponderous axe resounded from the ma.s.sive panels. One door gave way: there was a stunning crash, followed by reports of fire-arms, cries of agony, and the dull sound of falling victims. Again the numbers were successful, but in this instance the victims knew no mercy, and, when at last the tumult ceased, the mutilated corpses of the two brigands could hardly be recognized from three of their late a.s.sailants.

The man who had been shot while descending from the window was found to be quite dead, the ball having entered his heart. The two survivors were subsequently identified as Ramon Gomez, and Pietro Vaga, better known as "the Hunchback," two of the most notorious highwaymen and burglars, for whose apprehension a large reward had been offered.