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Chapter V.
The Death of Mr. Peters, the Chief Officer.

"It is no use staying here any longer. Water we must have, and there is none to be found round this spot."

It was Bob Ellis who spoke, and he looked across at me. We were sitting together, talking over the situation.

"It would be rank madness if we were to go on drinking this stuff, Charlie," he continued hoarsely, and I nodded.

"I don't think the others will move,"I said, and he growled out that in that case he would go alone.

"It's silliness stopping. We don't know what is on the other side. We have only seen it from the top of the mountain. We know there is nothing here, though."

"The chief officer will not be able to move," I said.

"That's so. But some of us can go. At any rate, I am going."

"Well," I answered, after a pause, "I am with you. It's no catch staying here."

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"Catch! It's death, boy, and we know it. I am going. You come with me. Let's tell the others, and if they don't care to come, they can stay away."

So we went back to the camp and told the others; and as Ellis had hinted, most of the crowd didn't seem inclined to move. I think that the suffering had got into their blood, and it made them feel that they didn't care to try any more.

The first mate would not go—indeed, he could not, he was far too weak; and Mr. Maclaghlan and the third officer, Karl Knudsen, would not leave him.

"If you fellows like to go and search, you do it," said the second. "I am afraid that it is the same all round. Look here, you can have one of the sails—you can't be without a shelter—and if anything comes of it, you can let us know."

Well, four or five of the others decided to throw in their lot with us; for, as Ellis had said, they couldn't be worse off than they were, and they might be a great deal better in the end.

So we stopped up the gaff-topsail, and left the other one with our mates; and then, early one morning, we started off on our tramp, not knowing what might be before us. We took three or four of our precious matches with us, so that we might be able to make a fire; and off we went upon our long tramp, and I do not think that I shall ever forget it.

That sail hampered us terribly. We had to page 87carry it in the usual manner, each man taking a bit over his shoulder, and so we toiled up the steep hillside, and waded through the mud and tangled grass; and all the time we had wind and rain beating upon us until we fairly-staggered; and with the wind and rain showers of hail and sleet. It was a good job in one way, as the exercise kept us warm, or we might have been frozen to death in the awful biting, southerly wind—a wind blowing right from the eternal ice of the Atlantic, and bearing the Frost King's biting breath in its every blast.

Every hundred yards or so we had to rest, panting and breathless; but we ever shouldered our burden again, and kept doggedly on, forgetting fatigue in our determination to make the other side of the island, or perish in the attempt.

But determination, though it can do much, cannot stand out against exhausted nature; and by late in the afternoon we were all properly done, and could not crawl another yard, so we were compelled to stay where we were, and make our camp for the night.

All through that day we had neither food nor drink; and we had been reduced to such a state, that we had actually plucked at the grass and weeds, and had striven to eat them, in the hopes that they would stay the horrible torments of hunger and thirst, in some measure.

As long as we could, we had staggered on; but at last we had to drop the sail, and cast ourselves down on the earth.

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"We must stop here," we declared, and so with one of our precious matches we started a fire, though we could only find a very small supply of wood to keep it going. Plenty of grass; but grass was no use for a fire.

Not far away from our camp we saw plenty of mollyhawks; and so two or three of us went to catch some for a meal; when all of a sudden there came a yell—something like an awful shriek—from one of them, and then the words:

"Water! Water! Thank God, here is fresh water!"

Water ! You cannot imagine how we rushed to the spot. There seemed to be but one desire in the world—to throw ourselves down, and drink and drink, until we could contain no more.

Water! Only water in a little pool, with dead grass and slime floating on it; and yet never, in all my life, have I tasted any drink so absolutely delicious as was that first drink of fresh water, away there on Disappointment Island.

Water! It put new life into us. It cooled our fevered blood, it cleared our muddled heads; we were new men. We could face anything, dare anything, endure anything, now that we had had a drink of fresh water.

Then we killed a couple of mollyhawks each, and having cooked them and had our meal, we banked up our fire, so that it might smoulder all night; and all together we crept beneath the sail, and drew it clean over us; and so, all crowded together for warmth, we managed page 89to sleep better that night, in spite of the tempest that howled all the mountain over.

Next morning at daybreak we were astir, and had our fire made up; and then, after another drink and some food, we gathered round and held council as to what was best to be done.

"It is no use talking of stopping here," said Ellis. "You see, boys, in the first place, we must have wood, and there is no more here; and in the next, we are in the right place for getting frozen."

And that was right, for our camp was right on top of a mountain-like hill, and exposed to south and south-westerly winds; and as I have said, those winds were terribly cold, and hail and snow came up on them; and we most of us were thinly clad.

Of course, we were loath to leave the water, but, as Ellis said, if we had found water here, there was no reason why we should not find it elsewhere also.

"We must make for the northern part," I said, "where we shall be sheltered from the southerly winds, being to leeward of these high mountains."

"The northern part it is," said Bob, "so let's get on with it."

So we stopped up our sail, and were about to shoulder it again, when out of the long grass, not far away, we saw a man suddenly rise, and utter a yell of surprise as he beheld us.

"By the powers if it isn't Mickey !" cried page 90Ellis; and Mickey, as we called John Gratton, it turned out to be.

"What the dickens are you doing about here, Mickey ?" we asked. "Why, we thought that you were going to stay with the other crowd."

"And so I was, my darlints," he answered. "But sure, I felt that I'd like a change, or, maybe, it was your handsome face that I was after missing, Charlie. At any rate, I made up my mind to follow you soon after you had gone, but I must have missed you, or else you ran all the way, for not a sign of you could I see all the blessed day. And by that same, it is myself that is remembering that I am hungry, so, if you have got anything to eat, hand, it over."

"There's better than something to eat, Micky. There is fresh water here; and——"

But before we could finish, Mickey had risen with a whoop, and was burying his head right in the pond, as if he meant to drink every drop of that water up.

"Now, don't be after trying to disturb me," he said, in reply to our protests. "Sure, it's a lot of days I have got to be making up, since I had a drink like this. Don't hinder me, boys. I have got a lot to do." And he ducked his head into the pool again.

But even Mickey could not go on drinking for ever, and at last, with a sigh, he had to stop; and he sat looking up at us, his honest Irish face aglow with satisfaction.

"By the powers, boys, that's the best drink page 91I've had this many a day !" he said. "Sure, then, you are not going away from this blessed spot, are you ? "

"We are; and if you don't want to be frozen you had better come, too," I said; and Mickey looked piteously at the water.

"Ochone ! Why can't I be taking it with me, then ?" he said. "It's a thousand pities to leave it behind."

"We shall find more Mickey," he was answered. "And perhaps we shall find other things, as well."

"Well, then, let's be going," he answered; and so up on our shoulders we hoisted the sail again, and once more we started upon the march.

How stiff we felt, to be sure, and how some of us limped !—for we had no coverings to our feet, and we were punished dreadfully as we toiled on; but as Mickey observed, "It was a good job there didn't seem to be either scorpions or serpents on the island."

Indeed, except for the mollyhawks, there did not seem to be any life at all, save the birds which we call night birds, because they only came out at night; and some albatross, which seemed very shy. Later on we caught some of these latter birds, and fastened bits of sailcloth round their necks, with messages upon them, and cut their wings to distinguish them, in case they came back.

Come back they did, and that without the canvas; but we never heard whether they had been caught by men and had the messages re-page 92moved, or whether they had managed to pick them off themselves. The latter seemed the most probable, for surely if our messages had been received, someone would have come to rescue us from our terrible plight on that bleak island.

On and on we tramped, until in the afternoon we came to a valley which seemed to promise better things than the mountain had done. In the first place, we were sheltered somewhat, and in the next, there was plenty of wood and fresh water.

"It's about the best place we have seen," so we all declared, and we accordingly determined to make our camp here. We were not very far from the sea; but as there must be some disadvantage in every position, we had a long way to go for the mollyhawks.

"That won't matter much," was Mickey's comment. "Sure, it will be giving us an appetite, to go after them."

Well, we started to make our camp—got a fire going, and went for a supply of birds; and then we sat there and had our evening meal, and after that we turned in.

But that night it rained harder, I think, than it had done since we had been on the island—it literally poured down; and soon the water was streaming through the canvas on top of us. That was a miserable night, indeed ! The ground beneath us was so sodden that our bodies sank into it, and the canvas above, soaked through, was no longer a means of shelter and warmth, but struck an icy page 93chill to our very marrow, so that we were glad when at last day broke, and we could get up.

The rain never ceased; but we had got so used to being drenched, and our clothes, or such rags as we had left, were so sodden, that we did not take any notice of it.

But the wet, the cold, the exertion and the bad food were working their dreadful work rapidly, and we were all in a terrible state of weakness. It is hardly any use trying to describe how weak we were, to anyone who has never undergone anything like our experiences—so weak that every movement seemed laborious—so weak that we felt as if every bit of strength was gone for ever.

In the Bible, Solomon, in the book of Ecclesiastes, describes a man who is very weak through old age, and he speaks of "The keepers of the house trembling, and the strong men bowing themselves," by which he means a man's arms shaking with weakness, and his legs giving way beneath him. That is just how we were. And then he goes on to say: "The grasshopper shall be a burden."

That is a wonderful description of weakness; even the small weight of a grasshopper being more than a man can bear. Solomon knew what he was talking about. We were as weak as that—the grasshopper would. have been a burden to us.

And think of it. We were in that big valley, the mountains around, the monotonous page 94grey sky above, and the rain pouring down, down without ceasing.

And away through the rain to the eastward we could see that other island, where we knew there was food and huts, and very likely a good boat. Only six miles away from us, such a very little way, and yet those six miles of angry sea might have been the whole width of the ocean—it would not have shut us off from safety more effectually if it had been.

We could only lie there, or stagger a few feet, and stare at it with longing eyes. It was enough to make men go mad; and looking back now, I wonder how it was that we kept our senses during those awful days. Later, when we grew stronger, we found plenty to do to occupy our minds; but it was different at first—ah, terribly, different !

All day and every day the rain kept on, until our fire hissed and spluttered with it, and it was hard work to keep it going. But we did that; for if it had once gone out we should not have managed to get another— and without a fire we should have died outright; and we discussed whether we ought not to go back and tell our companions that we had discovered fresh water.

But discussing was one thing and doing was another. We had the heart, but not the power; for there was not one amongst us who could have walked two hundred yards, let alone that awful distance back to the other fellows. We were so weak then, that page 95we did not much care whether we died or not.

And then, through the mist and rain, two deplorable-looking objects came staggering into our camp—falling, rising, crawling like children; and one of the two was our hitherto cheery second mate. Oh, how bad he looked; so gaunt, so wan—a mere bag of skin and bone; chilled with the cruel cold and burnt with fever! And these two had managed to crawl right across the island in search of us.

They told us that the other fellows had also found fresh water midway between the wreck and our first camping ground, but that all the men were in a pitiable state of weakness, hardly able to move. They had lost their fire, and had not been able to get another going; so they had broken their camp and had started after us, up that awful mountain. We shuddered as we thought of it; a strong man, well-shod, would have laughed at the journey; but to us—ah, who can tell what it was !

"Mr. Peters has got worse and worse," they told us. "When we determined to come after you, we hoped that he would be able to walk, if we took easy stages; but he cannot. We managed to get him half way up the hill, but he couldn't stand it. We don't know what he would have done if it had not been for Knudsen—he is the strongest of us, and he has stuck to Mr. Peters splendidly. Santiago is next best man; and the page 96pair of them have done all that they could, but it is of no use"—and the words ended in something like a large sob.

"Where is the chief now ?" we asked; and they told us that they had made him a little hut on the side of the hill, and had left him there with one of the other fellows who was also unable to move, and what food they had; and the rest were straggling on towards us, hoping that we might have fire.

Fire! Thank God we had that; and we tended it carefully, and got food ready for our mates as they should come in. The story of their sufferings seemed to put strength into us—we wanted to do what we could to help them.

And then one by one our poor comrades struggled in, to sink fainting beside the fire; and last came Knudsen, our sturdy Norwegian third officer. He had stayed to do what he could for Mr. Peters; and he was better off than the majority of us, for he had a good pair of boots, whilst our feet were all cut and festering.

And there away on the mountain-side, with the howling-winds and the drifting sleet, without fire, without hope, lay our brave first officer, dying; and we—we who would give our lives for him, or for each other— unable to do aught to help him ! Knudsen told us that he had completely lost the use of his legs, and it was impossible to bring him farther.

It was no use their staying with him., for page 97their lives depended upon getting fire and food; but Knudsen, albeit he was weak enough himself, turned out and tramped back all that weary, long way, taking cooked birds with him for the mate and his companion in weakness. Ah, Knudsen was the life of us then; for Mr. Maclaghlan, brave and patient as he was, was properly done—as near dying as a living man can be, without passing over—and, indeed, there were few of us in better hap than he !

And the chief was dying—dying of starvation. The food had almost killed us, and it had been just poison to him from the first; and he had been dreadfully injured on the night of the wreck.

And to think that this was April, and that away in Old England the hedges would be all covered with the tender green of the opening leaf, and the birds would be singing in the trees. To think of all the freshness and sweetness and the beautiful things of the beautiful world which we do not notice just because they are always with us. To think of it all—and the dear ones at home—and we there, with the grey sky, and the grey sea, and the grey faces of the starving men!

Stout of heart, and as enduring as the crags of his own far-away Norseland home, Knudsen returned to us after his journey. Did ever a man so persevere in a hopeless mission; and it was hopeless, he knew that, and so did all the rest of those who had joined us. We who had not seen Mr. Peters since he had page 98got so terribly weak could only form our opinions from their descriptions.

"We have got to get him over here somehow" he said. "We can't leave him to die there. The other fellow is getting on a bit, but Mr. Peters can't last much longer."

Not last much longer! What a knell the words seemed to strike on our hearts. God help us ! How much longer could any of us last ? Would we not all perish, until the last of our company, casting despairing eyes on the Island of Dreams, fell upon his comrades' bodies, there to lie until, perhaps, years after, our bleached bones might be discovered and another mystery of the sea be talked about ? Death is a terrible thing, anyhow; but to die away on the hillside alone, with rain and mist for a shroud, and the shrieking night-birds to sing the dirge, what wonder that Knudsen declared stoutly that we could not leave Mr. Peters to such a fate as that ?

"What's the matter with us anyhow ?" groaned Mickey, as we sat there by our fire, listening to Knudsen's report; and we understood what he meant.

We wanted to go and fetch the mate in, but we could not; our limbs gave under us; we reeled like drunken men, and honest-hearted Mickey of Arklow sobbed like a child, because of his weakness.

What was the matter ? Starvation was the matter. The birds did not agree with us—our stomachs seemed to be incapable of digesting them—but they, and the weeds, were all the page 99food we had. Starvation and fever sapping away our strength, and wet and cold all day and every day. It did not take much to answer that question—what was the matter with us ?

But Knudsen and Santiago got three of the strongest with them—and the fellows who had boots were the stronger now, for they could walk without having to endure agony—and they took a big supply of birds and started off. They meant to get Mr. Peters to camp somehow, if they had to carry him every step of the way.

Away through the rain and mist they went, leaving us there; but the next day Knudsen came back, tramping it all by himself, for a further supply of food.

"We shall want plenty," he said. "It will take a long time to get him in."

"How is he ?" we asked, and Knudsen answered:

"Dying !" Then he dashed his rough hand across his eyes, and cried fiercely: "But we will get him in—we will get him in 1" And with his load he set off again to rejoin the others, who were ministering to poor Mr. Peters.

And we waited, and the days passed, and still the rain fell—fell all the time. We waited and gazed across to that Dream Island, and longed in vain, and the twelfth of our captivity dawned—the twelfth day of pain and cold and heart-breaking despair; and then Knudsen came back—came back alone, with a set face; and we, when we looked, knew that this had page 100been labour in vain. The chief mate was dead —he had died during the night—and his pains and sorrows were over. God have mercy on us ! Perhaps he was to be envied, for he was at rest, and we—how much more of the torture could we endure ?

"We did all we could," the third mate said, "but it was no use. He was doomed from the first—and now he is dead ! "

Dead! What a strange gap that death seemed to make. One gone out of sixteen— the first one ! The gloom of that death fell like lead upon our souls. Bad as we were before, we felt ten times worse now.

"What have you done with him, Knudsen ?" we asked, and the mate told us. Of course it was utterly impossible to dig a grave. For one thing, no one was strong enough for such exertion; and in the next place, there was nothing to dig it with. So they had wrapped our first mate's body in a piece of sailcloth, and then they had heaped a great pile of tussocks over him. It was all they could do, and, perhaps when we grew stronger—if ever we did—we might bury him properly.

And so the mate was dead, and by seaman's law, Mr. Maclaghlan was our chief now; and he, poor fellow, was in such a state, that it seemed that he could not last much longer. Truly, we were in a terrible plight, and each day the weather got worse and worse, with a dreadful, steady persistency.

Try to imagine our plight. Most of us were no better clothed than I was—and I had a page 101thin pair of trousers, split all to pieces, a thin vest, full of holes, a coat, but neither socks nor boots. A poor sort of protection against cold such as those in England rarely feel; and then, besides, everything we had on was soaking wet all the time, and it was utterly impossible to try to dry them.

Try to imagine that, and then think of the food—the tough, fishy mollyhawk, badly cooked at the best, and the seaweed and grass. Think of our beds on the bare ground, where we sank into the muddy slush, a wet canvas above us, and a pile of half-melted snow on that, and then you will have some faint idea of the sufferings of the Dundonald's crew on Disappointment Island, between April and the beginning of June in the year 1907.

But, strange though it seems, after May was nearly done, instead of getting weaker, we seemed to improve. I can only suppose that we were getting used to our food and manner of life, and what had at first nearly killed us was beginning to nourish us now. At any rate, stronger we got, so that we could walk further, and undertake harder tasks, and not suffer from that awful feeling of weakness. And then we were face to face with a fresh difficulty, for if we had got better, the weather got worse, and it became very plain to us that, unless we could remedy our mode of housing, we should all die of cold.

We could not have a fire beneath our canvas, and when we crouched there at night we would lie trembling with cold, and there was not page 102enough warmth in our frozen bodies to keep our stagnant blood moving in our veins.

We should have to do something, and do it quickly, for the weather grew worse and worse, and the full southern winter was upon us. If anyone wants to understand our plight, I can only say imagine a man in the very North of Scotland, or, better still, the Shetland Isles, with thin, ragged clothing, soaked through and through, and sleeping out in a wet field in the depth of winter. The suffering of those perishing nights was awful, and we gathered round our fire and discussed the situation.

Something would have to be done, but the question was—what was that something to be ?