My Father's Shipwreck

I HAVE often promised you, my dear children, that I would some time write out my own early recollections of certain passages in the lives of your grandparents, who were, I think, honored and beloved by you in a very uncommon degree. These passages have always excited a deep interest in the family circle, and something impels me now to undertake the fulfilment of my promise, ere the lengthening shadows, which are approaching, dim the distinctness of outline with which these far-off objects still stand out in the background of my earliest days.

I was, as you know, the only child of my parents. At my birth your grandfather was a shipmaster. It was a period when a faithful performance of the duties of that vocation required a man possessing “ a sound mind in a sound body ” ; and that these gifts were his in an uncommon degree I think he found abundant opportunity for manifesting in a long and varied career.

All records of his voyages having been unfortunately destroyed, I have only a general knowledge of the fact that, some time during my second year, he sailed in the schooner M—, of B—, owned by Colonel I. T—, for the Mediterranean.

About this time a decree was issued by the French at Rambouillet, “confiscating all American vessels and their cargoes then found in ports under the control of the French, and directing that, if any should enter a French harbor in future, it should be seized and sold.” At Naples the M—, with twenty-nine other American vessels, was thus confiscated.

My father was detained there a weary time, making vain efforts to recover his vessel, and by a long and tiresome lawsuit he at one time succeeded in procuring its release, when almost immediately a new seizure was made by a new order from Napoleon Bonaparte. During this lawsuit he was obliged to have an audience with King Joachim Murat, and I have heard him laughingly describe the sport he made for his landlady and fellowboarders, by his somewhat grotesque appearance in the court-dress he was obliged to assume for the occasion. A part of this, I remember, was an extraordinary chapeau, to be carried chiefly under the arm, having been reduced to an unwonted degree of thinness by his various annoyances, his calves were considered to fall short of the proportions of beauty, as exhibited by “ black satin shorts,” in black silk stockings clocked and curiously gartered.

I recollect, too, having heard him say he felt “perfectly at ease” in making his simple statement to royalty; that he was listened to with “perfect politeness,” and a very fair promise made him that his petition should be granted.

One not inconsiderable incident of personal danger I recall as occurring to him at this time. He had a narrow escape from assassination. While sitting one day, after dinner, engaged in reading in the cabin of his own vessel, — it must have been during the short time of its release, — with his back turned toward the companion-way, he suddenly became conscious of a shadow falling on his page, and a darkening of the light by some object interposed between him and the door ; and he leaped to his feet just in time to avoid the stroke of a cutlass, which came down with sufficient force to make a deep incision upon a strongly bound sea-trunk which stood beside him, — a blow which must have cloven his skull, had it fallen as it was intended. It was dealt by the hand of one of the villains engaged in the lawsuit, who, on being thus defeated of his murderous design, pretended to make a joke of it, declaring it was merely an attempt to startle him from his book. Nor could my father have hoped for any redress, had he chosen to take it otherwise, such was the condition of the existing government.

During his eighteen months of detention he found sore leisure to indulge his curiosity as a traveller. He made the ascent of Vesuvius, during the time of an pruption, with a party of friends, walking where the ground was sufficiently hot to curl slightly the soles of his boots, — an exploit of ordinary occurrence now, but not quite so much so for Americans sixty years ago.

He also made a journey to Rome on account of his lawsuit. This being in the summer of 1809, he happened to start on his return to Naples on the same night, between the 5th and 6th of July, on which Pope Pius VII., accordingto Sir Walter Scott, was obliged, by order of the Emperor, to quit Rome, a temporary exile, repairing first to Grenoble and afterwards to Savona. I have often heard my father, an eyewitness, describe the frantic consternation into which the Catholic populace were thrown by this rash act of Napoleon.

On the loth of April, 1810, my father, with several others, masters and supercargoes of vessels, finding all chance for recovering their property lost, and fearing even for their personal safety, took passage in the ship M— for S—, which vessel was the first released by the government, on the application of Alexander Hammet, the American Consul, to convey to America the crews of the vessels confiscated at Naples.

An account of the fearful wreck of this good ship M—on her homeward passage I give you in your grandfather’s own word’s, as written by himself, very soon after his return to his own homo

“ On the 10th of April the ship M— of S—, sailed from Naples, with forty-six souls on board, namely, thirty-one passengers, and fifteen, the crew of the said ship. Passed through the Gut of Gibraltar on the 22d of April ; nothing material occurred until the 20th of May, when, being in lat. 40° N. and long. 39° 30' W., having strong breezes at southeast and eastsoutheast and rainy weather, at 11 A. M. took in topgallant steering sails, and fore and mizzen topgallant sails, jib and light staysail and mainsail. At 1 p. M. foretopmast steering-sail halyards parted, and all hands were called to haul in the steering-sail, and take in sail; but owing to the topmast steering-sail being carried away, it carried away the topmast steering - sail boom, which brought both steeringsails into the water, and both were lost. One man was on the main royal yard, furling the royal, three on the main topgallant yard, and one in the maintop, the rest employed in clewing down the topsails, but, finding the squall came on heavily, they were obliged to let fly the topsail sheets, the helm at the same time being hove hard to windward with the wind on her larboard quarter ; she came to against her helm, and when the wind got abeam she began to capsize, and as soon as she got her gunwale to the water, in an instant capsized with her masts and sails in the water. One man was on the main royal yard, three on the main topgallant yard, and four or five in the forecastle unwell, and one in the cabin, who said, when he came out of the cabin, the water was rushing down in sheets as large as the companion-way would admit; notwithstanding, they all got on the ship’s side.

“ After cutting away the lanyards with our knowes, we at length procured an axe, and cut uway the masts, and got a rope from the fore and mizzen chains ; all hands then got hold of the rope, and, going as near the keel as possible, by this means righted her, and found her full of water, her hatches, cabin doors, and windows being open. At the same time the long-boat and pinnace, and several water - casks were drifting among the spars to windward. We then hove over the guns, anchors, etc., to lighten the ship, and endeavored to clear the wreck of the spars, rigging, etc., which lay beating against her; but our efforts were in vain, as the starboard lanyards were so deep under water that we could not come at them. Three men then got into the small boat, which was very badly stove, and endeavored to tow the long-boat out from among the spars ; at the same time there were men on the bottom of the long-boat, and on the spars, endeavoring to cut a passage for her; and, in about two hours, they got the long-boat alongside of the wreck, and righted her, but found the pinnace in her so badly stove that it was impossible to repair her. The long-boat had one of her buts started, and a hole in her bottom, on which account we were obliged to turn her bottom up again to drive the but to, and stop the hole. Mr. S— C —, of Derby, in Connecticut. stripped himself of his jacket and trousers, got on the bottom of the boat, drove the but to, and stopped the hole in her bottom by nailing canvas and sheet-lead over it, which we got from the stern. We then righted her, and three men jumped into the boat to bale her out, which they effected in about fifteen minutes ; eight more then jumped into the boat, and shoved off, for the purpose, as I then supposed, of repairing her. Myself, with the assistance of some others, got the guard irons and waist cloths, and some pine boards, with all the tools and nails I could procure, and passed them into the small boat, to send to the longboat, which was lying at about twenty or thirty fathoms’ distance, still thinking they would lie by us. Just before night, as the yawl was lying alongside, taking in tools, nails, etc., Mr. B—, who was sitting on the taffrail, got into her and went to the long-boat. About twelve o’clock at night they hailed us from the boat, and requested me to send them a chest and a cask of sweet-oil, which wms made fast to the stern, which request I complied with. From that time until morning they frequently told us to desist from haling in the boat, or they should be obliged to cut the painter ; there was, however no one near the rope, nor was there any attempt made during the night to haul up the boat. The next forenoon, the weather being moderate, three me were employed in the yawl, in procuring from the spars a sail, spars, rigging, and oars for the long-boat. About twelve o’clock, as I was taking an observation, they said to me that, as I had two quadrants and two compasses, I could spare them one of each. I replied, that if they would come under the stern I would give them, but they declined doing that, and requested me to make them fast on a board, and veer it astern, which I refused to do. This was the first idea I had of their leaving us. I refused them the quadrant and compass on the idea that they would not leave us without them ; but immediately upon my refusal they stept their mast and bent their sail, and were all ready to get under way. Finding their intention was to leave us, several of the people on the wreck entreated them, for God’s sake, to come alongside, and take some more of them in before they left. They refused to do this. Those on the wreck then requested them to come a little nearer, that they might send some word to their friends, if the boat ever got home. They refused to do even this, and immediately hoisted their sail.

“ Upon seeing this, three or four jumped into the sea, and swam towards the long-boat, among whom was Mr. C—, above mentioned, who repaired the bottom of the long-boat at the risk of his life. They immediately cut the painter, and the two men in the yawl jumped out of her into the long-boat, setting the yawl adrift ; at the same time some one on board of the long-boat held up a knife in a threatening manner, meaning probably to make those in the water understand they would keep them off at any rate. These men then returned, with the exception of one, who swam to the yawl, which was drifting to leeward. With much difficulty he got on board of her, and found one oar in the water alongside ; he then sculled for the longboat, which was at that time sailing very slowly, at the distance of nearly a mile from the wreck ; he was apparently gaining upon them, when they manned their oars, and pulled away from him, on which he returned to the wreck, having been absent about two hours. Since my arrival, Captain G—, of Newburyport, has stated to me, that it was with great difficulty he got on board of the long-boat from the yawl, several of them being opposed to it, although he had been very industriously employed in getting her from among the spars, etc., and in procuring articles for repairing her ; he likewise stated to me that, ‘ had they known they should be taken up in four or five days, they might have taken ten more.' It is my sincere opinion that when the boat left us, far from being incapable of holding more, she required at least one ton weight to put her in good sailing trim.

“ Although I never requested them to come alongside to take more in, yet I wished them to keep by us, in the hope that if we should be fortunate enough to see any vessel, the long-boat might forelay it, and by that means rescue the whole of us ; and had they stayed by us but two days longer, we should probably have been all saved, as, on that day, a large ship passed so near the wreck that we saw her hull; and the yawl, shattered as she was, was despatched to board her, but, being small, and a heavy sea running, it was impossible to make much progress ; they got near enough, however, to see the people on the deck. To show that it was the opinion of many, if not all, on the wreck that the long-boat ought to have stayed by them, I will merely mention that, at the time the boat left the wreck, there were several young gentlemen who told those leaving us, ‘ they hoped some might get home from the wreck to expose their vile conduct.’ Left the wreck in the long-boat about twentyfour hours after she capsized. [A list of fifteen names is here given in the manuscript.]

“ After the departure of the long-boat, on Monday, May 21st, we immediately hoisted a signal by lashing one of the royal masts to the stump of the mainmast, and hoisting a cabin quilt about thirty feel above the deck. We then erected a stage, by laying spars across the quarter-rails, and laid a sail on the spars, on which we were tolerably comfortably situated ; all hands were then employed in securing provisions.

“ On the 24th of May we caught a turtle, and found in a chest a box of tinder, which being quite wet we dried in the sun, and got fire; we then took the bell of the ship and built a fire in it, and with a baking-pan cooked a good mess of turtle-soup for thirty-one persons. We burnt some fresh tinder, and kept it dry as we could, but never could get fire afterwards. In the course of six days we had secured three casks of water, one barrel of wine, salt pork and beef, hams, potatoes, corn, bread, etc., sufficient to have lasted two or three months, and had the long-boat stayed by us, we might have secured a great quantity in her; but, unfortunately for us, on the 28th of May, came on a heavy gale of wind, and in the course of the night the spars which lay alongside, a heavy sea running at the same time, beat away all the upper works ; at the same time our staging went, and we lost all the provisions, excepting a little salt meat, and about three gallons of wine. But if, at this time, we could have had the tools the long-boat took from us, especially the broad-axe, we might have been able to disencumber the wreck of the spars, which, by beating against it, undoubtedly caused the loss of the upper deck. In the fore part of the night there were four men in the yawl ; but as it was blowing so fresh, and the boat making so much water, two of the four were obliged to get out on the staging, leaving two to steer and bale. In the morning, it being a little more moderate, myself, with two others, took to the yawl, and were employed, in the fore part of tV.e day in taking the people from the quarter-deck to the bowsprit ; directly after the quarter deck floated off with the stump of the mizzen-mast in it. During the week our provisions lasted, the company unanimously chose Captain J— and myself to take charge of them, and deal out as we thought proper. I would likewise state, that, during the tirne I was with them, Captain J— prayed publicly with the company, and that many of them paid great attention, especially Messrs. C—, C—, and P—. On the 30th, the weather being pleasant, I was employed, with four others, in procuring spars and sails, to make a stage on the forecastle ; this was done by laying the spars from the belfry, on each side of the stump of the foremast, to the bows of the ship, which made a tolerable stage for the whole company, on which they were quite dry. Nothing remarkable happened until the 3d of June, when G— P—, of Salem, died, overcome by fatigue and reduced by fam-. ine. Our wine at this time being gone, and having nothing but a wineglass of vinegar for each man, during every twenty-four hours, not having had any water since the 28th of May, it being a calm day on the 4th of June, we went to work to get a pipe of brandy, which we effected about midday, when many of the people, having previously drunk much salt water, which had increased their sufferings to a great degree, inadvertently took brandy to quench their raging thirst. The next day the following persons died. [A list of fourteen who died within fortyeight hours is here given, with the names of the vessels, etc., to which they belonged.]

“ On the 6th of June the whole of the upper deck was gone, and everything that was between decks had floated out, leaving us without any subsistence, excepting some pork and beef, which it was impossible to eat for want of water. On the 7th of June, finding we could be of no use to those on the wreck, having nothing hut brandy to subsist upon, and being then in lat. 390 12' N., thinking that too far south for the track of Europeans, we decided, five of us, to trust ourselves to the yawl, and endeavor to stretch northward.

“ The morning we left the wreck we went under the bowsprit, and joined in prayer with Captain J— for our deliverance. At ten we bade them a final adieu, taking m the boat about two and one half gallons of brandy and a little pork. We left on the wreck the following persons, viz. [Here follows a list of ten names.]

“When the yawl left the wreck, the five following appeared in pretty good spirits, and might stand it nearly as long as we did in the boat....

“ The following persons left the wreck in the boat, viz., J— C. V—, E— A— I—, J— L—, of Salem, J— T—, of Ipswich, and myself. For sixteen days after we left the wreck we had no sustenance, excepting the brandy, of which we took a gill in the course of twenty-four hours. On the night of the 22d of June we had considerable rain, and we caught water enough, by holding up our handkerchiefs and wringing them, to quench our thirst partially, and to save two quarts. On the 23d T———, overcome with fatigue, hunger,and thirst,breathed his last, without a groan. On the same day we observed a number of rudderfish round the boat, and making a dipnet out of a hoop and some twine, caught plenty, and, after drying them, we ate some of them, being live lirst food we had taken since leaving the wreck. From this time to the 27th we hail several showers, and caught water sufficient nearly to quench our thirst ; in which time I had eaten a small quantity of salt pork with some of the fish. But as soon as our water was gone I could eat no more. On the 2SU1 of June Ldied, of hunger, thirst, and fatigue. He went out of the world without a struggle or a groan. On the 29th, the boat still leaking so badly as to keep one man constantly baling, there being a heavy sea running, we had the misfortune to lose all our oars and the boat’s mast. Having nothing left to steer the boat with, she lying in the trough of the sea, and being in great danger of filling every moment, we lost nearly all our remaining courage. However, we went to work to make a paddle to steer the boat with ; by taking the yard from our boat’s sail, which was made of the blade of an oar split in two, and seizing it together in its former place, and lashing a strip of board to it for a handie, by this means we kept the boat before the sea.

“ On the 30th of June, about 3 p. M., the boat being half full of water, I was looking round between hope and despair, and, to my unspeakable joy, espied a sail to the southeast, which, after looking some time, I thought was standing from us. In about ten minutes I observed sire was standing on the wind to the north-northwest, and that she would not fetch within two miles of us, we being to windward.

“We were now almost in despair, having neither oars nor boat’s mast, and Mr. V— so lame that he could scarcely move himself, but being in the stern of the boat, he took the paddle and kept her before the wind, while Mr. E— baled the boat, which was leaking very badly. I went to work to rig a sail, and for that purpose took one of the boat’s thwarts ; and the Lord giving me strength for that effort, — I had very little natural strength left, — I split the thwart over the stern of the boat, seized it together, and made a mast six feet long ; with a piece of board I made a yard ; and in about ten minutes got a sail set, and was running before the wind to forelay the vessel. About four o’clock P. M., having run about two miles to leeward, we came alongside the vessel, which proved to be the General J— of G—, from Lisbon, commanded by Captain S— L. D—, who received us on board, and treated us with the tenderness of a brother while we remained with him. He gave us at first light food in small quantities, increasing the portion as we were able to bear it. And I here desire to express my grateful acknowledgments that so worthy a man was made an instrument in God’s hand to be our deliverer. This was the eighth sail we had seen since our shipwreck, — four before we left the wreck, and four since. Our sufferings and disappointments, while on the wreck and in the boat, were, as the reader may judge, inexpressible. Captain D— received us on board his vessel in lat. 40’ 12' N., long. 45° W, They immediately hoisted our boat on board the General J—, and found three of her buts started off, and the oakum so much out of her bottom, that, when they cast off the gripes, of which we had three, her stern nearly dropped out. In this small and shattered boat three of us had lived twenty-three days, since leaving the wreck ; and on the 21st of July we arrived safely at G—, and in a short time reached our respective families, to the mutual joy of ourselves and our friends. Even strangers seemed to look on us as raised from the dead.

“ May we, each of us, give God the glory for such signal deliverance, and, in gratitude, devote the remainder of our days to his service.

(Signed) “ H— L—. “B—, August 2, 1810.

“ P. S. — Since my arrival I have been informed by Captain F—, that it has been frequently reported at S— that the 'M— was upset in a drunken frolic’; but I can assure the public that there was no person intoxicated, to mv knowledge, while 1 remained on board the ship. I feel very grateful to Captain F-for his offer of a passage to me in the M—, and for his kind treatment of me while on board, before the shipwreck.

“ H— L—.”

This simple statement was made by my father, as soon after his return as he was able to collect his ideas and express them upon paper. And it is. indeed, wonderful, considering the physical condition to which he was reduced, that it did not require months rather than weeks to restore him to the degree of mental and bodily vigor necessary for the performance of this very painful duty. You will remember they were taken on board the General J— on the 30th of June ; they arrived at G— on the 21st of July; and this account was dated August 2d, at his own home in B—.

At that distant day, the whole neighboring community were excited by so remarkable an event as this “second return from the wreck of the M—.”

Little child as I then was, I distinctly remember how, day after day, our little parlor would often be filled with persons, who came miles to see one who had survived such sufferings and exposure. A written account was demanded by the public ; but, owing to some peculiar circumstances connected with these sad events, my father undertook to give it with extreme reluctance. A very large number of near relatives and friends of the sufferers resided in the immediate vicinity ; and even before what was termed the “second return,” the conduct of those who left in the long-boat had been a good deal discussed, and now a loud call was made for a statement of facts relating to it. So he gave his testimony with regard to them. Honesty and moral courage, with which he was largely endowed, obliged him to state the facts truthfully, though his kindness of heart and true knowledge of human nature led him to put the mildest construction upon the motives of those who had escaped in the longboat. Respecting Captain F— I have heard him say : “ I believe him to have been guilty only of weakness. He yielded, probably through fear, to the selfish impulses of one or two passionate young men, when he should resolutely have taken command of his own boat, and exercised the judgment of a man in lading and directing her.” Some of these gentlemen were personal friends, whom he often met afterwards, and for whom he felt unabated regard through life. He suppressed many sad details of suffering, which would have lent a thrilling interest to the story, but which could not have been borne by the bleeding hearts to which they must have found access, if given in a public newspaper.

There is quite a remarkable forgetfulness of self in his narrative, as he omits all personal details which are not of direct importance to the main story. As an instance of this I may here add a note made by a friend, who got the item in conversation, years afterwards, from my father. Where the narrative, simply says, “ The quarter-deck floated off, with the stump of the mizzen-mast in it,” my friend’s note has, “ Captain L—. the others all being on the forward staging, happened to be alone on that part of the upper deck near the mizzen-mast when it was swept away, carrying the stump of the mast with it. After floating off three or four rods, and hesitating whether his last chance was there or on the wreck, he plunged into the water, swam back, and got safely on board again,”

My father lived fifty-two years after these events occurred, but he never could discuss them without an effort. Indeed, after he was eighty years of age, I have known him to lose a meal if this subject became a topic of conversation at table. I can now distinctly recall his expression of countenance, as I heard him say to a boy who, while he was impatiently waiting for dinner, exclaimed “ I shall die of hunger ! ” “Ifyou had seen men die of hunger as 1 did, and if you had felt, as I have, what it is to die, as to hunger and thirst yourself, you would then know the dreadful meaning of that word hunger.”

At the solicitation of persons who did not suspect what suffering it gave him to recall these scenes, I have at different times heard him give details far more harrowing than anything recorded in his narrative; and now, when those for whom I write are so desirous of knowing more of the story, 1 regret that I did not on those occasions commit the facts to writing ; for I always, at my mother’s injunction, scrupulously refrained from asking him myself for any details. Some things I can recall to memory which may add an interest to what I write. My father always observed character with more interest than insensible objects, and so came to understand human nature uncommonly well, while he was by no means remarkably observant of places and things, unless associated with “ human life therein.”

On the wreck he must have made a study of the manner in which men of different temperaments and characters were affected by their common calamity, for I remember being particularly charmed, in early life, by hearing him describe observations of that sort which he there made ; and the good Captain J—, the lively and talented P—, and the true-hearted, energetic C— have always stood out, in my imagination, as lifelike pictures of representative men.

I remember hearing that, after the long-boat left them, my father was one day attempting to take an observation, when one of the men, suddenly becoming deranged, as several of them did before death ended their sufferings, rushed at him and knocked off his hat into the water. At this time the heat of the sun was very oppressive, and for a few hours he felt the loss very painfully ; but at length it so happened that his own trunk, with the lid off, was “washed up from the hold, and floated within reach.” It contained many valuable things carefully collected by him, but he said he thought only of securing something to protect his head. As it floated past him he caught at a brightcolored cashmere shawl lying upon the top ; this he folded in a way to answer his purpose, and this he kept on his head until he was taken from the boat.

I have this shawl in my possession now ; faded with its exposure then to the sun and salt water, and stained where the beloved head rested on the salt pork, which, when the parched mouths could no longer eat it, was used as a pillow in the boat. I have also a portion of a blue bandanna handkerchief which he held up to catch the precious drops of rain, and wrung into a small wooden box, with which they baled the boat, to slake bis thirst. Of this handkerchief he finally made the “signal,” which caught the eye of the sailor, who had been “sent to the masthead to look out,” and who reported to Captain D— upon the deck, “ I see a sail, sir, at a great distance,” and being ordered to “look again,” shouted, “it is something almost alongside now.” I have also a piece of tarred line, knotted at the ends, just twenty-one inches long, which was the exact measure of my father about his waist, taken carefully by Captain D— the day he was received on board his vessel. He was a man rather above ordinary height, and of good proportions when in health. These, to me, precious relics I would have my children preserve after me, as tokens of suffering and privations so manfully borne more than half a century ago, by one who yet lived long enough to gain the love and veneration of them all. About twenty years ago 1 made a visit with my father at Franklin in New Hampshire. On the evening before we left, in compliance with an earnest request from our host, for whom lie had much respect, he entered more fully into details regarding this whole matter than 1 ever heard him at one sitting, before or after. Near midnight I listened to his description of the parting scene, when the yawl left the wreck finally, given with great feeling, but I have not words to describe it, as it has since lived in my imagination.

The wreck had drifted out of the regular track of vessels crossing the Atlantic, and remaining upon it, there was no hope of escape for any of the men. I believe the idea of leaving it in the yawl first came to my father, and the four who joined him did so without persuasion. Of the ten remaining at the time of their departure, five were unable to raise their heads or to speak audibly, and the other five considered their own chance to be better than that of those who left. They wept and prayed together, and made signals as long as they remained in sight of each other.

The extremity of suffering from privation came to my father on the boat. He was through life remarkable for his temperance in eating and drinking, refusing with dignity, even on his death-bed at eighty-five, to take “ extra meals on account of debility,” nor could he ever be persuaded to eat anything at all offensive to his taste. I remember, as if I saw it yesterday, the strange, sad smile with which he answered his mother, when I was a very little girl. She had asked him to “just taste ” something which he did not fancy, saying, “ Why, Henry, it is so good, and you saw the time, on the wreck, when you would have been glad to eat anything.” “No, mother,” said he, “ in the boat, for a time, I might; but I shall always remember bow on the wreck I took my knife to pare the rind from my allowance of bacon, and was just going to toss it overboard, when poor L— caught and devoured it like a dog.” He never seemed aware that he had more presence of mind and fortitude than most men ; but I have heard him say, in reference to this period, “ I really did not suffer so much as many in the same conditions with me, because I could turn off my mindfrom our wants better than they could.” I have heard him say he could make successful efforts, even in the boat, to compose himself to sleep, which the others could not ; and that, in this state, he was often “ much refreshed by dreams.” He suffered more from thirst than hunger, and more than once, dreaming that he was a boy at home, he stooped and drank, as he had then often done, from a clear brook, which ran near his mother’s house, and awoke “ refreshed.” At last he ceased for a few days to suffer from this cause ; having, at first, no desire for either food or drink when he came on board Captain D—’s vessel. So indeed, as he said, he “ died as to hunger and thirst.”

But far keener that anything physical was the mental suffering he endured. The 30th of June, the events of which are lightly touched in his narrative, was, as I heard him describe it at Franklin, such a day as few men have lived to tell of. Three vessels, speeding onward in safety, bad appeared within their horizon, and passed these worn and weary toilers, in their shattered boat, unknowingly. The last disappeared at sunset, and soon darkness, almost crushing out life with hope, came down upon them. What wonder if they felt deserted by God and man, forlorn, exhausted, starving upon that wide, lonely sea ! Then dawned that 30th day of June. Their failing strength seemed to have been tasked to the utmost. Poor V— was lying helpless, with one whole lower limb so swollen and inflamed by exposure to a burning sun, while constantly soaked in salt water, that he was unable to move himself. Ewas also extremely exhausted, and having besides a passionate temper, had lost self-control, and used his feeble voice only in making bitter complaints at having been induced to leave the wreck, declaring he would do no more in baling the boat or in attempting to steer it. My father toiled on until past high noon, when he too felt “ nature giving way ” ; the boat was half filled with water; he folded his arms, and closed his eyes ; one yearning thought of home, and all he was leaving, rushed through his heart, filling his soul, and impelled him “ once more to sweep the horizon with his eye ” ; this done, lying back in the boat, he “ would allow her to go down.” But, in that farewell gaze, a fourth vessel standing favorably toward them met his eyes ; hope instantly revives, strength from above is given, he seizes the thwart of the boat, and by a seemingly miraculous effort splits it in twain upon its frail stem ; his awakened energy excites his companions, — one bales, the other steers ; they gain upon their approaching deliverer ; they are descried by “the sailor on lookout at the masthead”; the vessel is “laid to,” and they are thus “snatched from the very jaws of death.”

The account given by Captain D—, of their appearance and condition when first rescued, I have often heard my mother repeat. This kind and good man, looking through his spy-glass from the deck of the vessel, saw nothing, but, at the sailor’s second report, the mate, looking over the side, saw, almost close to them, an indescribable object. So embrowned and emaciated were these men, almost divested of clothing, which had “been used strip by strip to calk the boat,” that they had almost lost the semblance of humanity, as they lay,

unable from debility and emotion to make audible replies to the questions proposed to them. My father attempted to rise and stand upright, but in so doing lost his balance, and fell between the boat and vessel, but the mate, who was then preparing to leap down to them, caught him, as he touched the water, and, carefully passing a rope around his body, had him tenderly raised, and placed safely on the deck of the vessel ; and finally, after rescuing E— in the same manner, the entire boat, with V— lying in it, was hoisted on board the General J— by the sympathizing sailors.

Captain D— said my father “asked for nothing, but at once seemed desirous to attempt to give an account of himself which he did, in a hoarse whisper, but with a mind perfectly collected, and in a very direct and intelligible manner.” The others “wept, and begged like little children for food and drink ; and, painful as it was, it was necessary, for some days, to deny them what would have killed them at once, if they could have got access to it.” I have heard my father say : “ I had then no hope of reaching home, and for twenty-four hours did not even inquire if the vessel were homeward bound ; but I wished my friends to know my story, thanked God devoutly for giving me this chance of sending it to them, and thought, this being done, I could then lie down and die in peace, for I felt that I was still at the gate of death”

By Captain D—’s unceasing and extremely judicious kindness, however, they were surprisingly recovered in the twenty-one days they passed on board his vessel. At first my father found great difficulty in swallowing a few teaspoonfuls of thin rice-water, was a number of hours in accomplishing it, and then was oppressed to an agonizing degree by distention of the stomach. Fortunately there was a quantity of nice oranges on board, which were liberally dispensed, and in a day or two the juice became exceedingly grateful to him, until finally, before they landed, he was able to take small portions of solid food. They anchored at G— toward nightfall ; and he was so desirous of going home at once, that Mr. L—, for manyyearsa well-remembered driver of the stage-coach, then running only twice in a week between G— and Boston, where several trains of cars now pass and repass daily, offered to drive him, in the most comfortable manner which could then be devised, to B—, and used years afterward to speak of it to the family, as “ a peculiar privilege” that he had been allowed to do so. Strength, however, was not yet sufficiently restored to my father’s wasted frame to enable him to perform at one effort the whole journey of fourteen miles ; and about nine o’clock in the evening he was brought to his mother’s house at W— Beach, being still distant five miles from his own home, and was there received by her and her family “as one arisen from the grave.”

If, my dear children, you all love and venerate the memory of your grandfather, I am sure those of you who at the time of her death were old enough to remember her now, accord an equal place in your regards to your grandmother. Some of you, who have heard her mental sufferings at the period I have described, alluded to by your grandfather and others, would, you say, feel this record to be incomplete, if what I am able to recall of this portion of the family chronicle should be omitted.

For your gratification, then, as I really have some distinct and vivid recollections of home scenes and occurrences associated with these events, which took place during my third summer, I will give them to you as they may be recalled ; but they must be mere outline sketches of a few scenes, strongly impressed at a period far remote. What 1 do remember was indelibly traced, but all filling up has been obliterated by the mists of gathering years.

This was in the time of the “ Long Embargo,” and all the good wives of absent sailors in our neighborhood were, I have been told, practising a strict economy. My mother was still living in the house where I was born, of which we occupied only a part. In my father’s absence she kept no servant. It was my birth month, June, and a cousin of my mother was making us a visit. Years afterward I heard her describe the singular state of nervous anxiety in which my poor mother had been living for more than a month. She was naturally very cheerful, and of a serene, equable temperament. But my father had left home expecting to be absent only six months, and had now been gone eighteen, under circumstances of peculiar trial and danger. This preyed upon her spirits sadly, and produced a dread of coming evil quite unnatural to her usual temper and disposition. A pleasant Sunday morning came, about tire 20th of June, and her cousin persuaded her to go to church, to hear the then celebrated Dr. Griffin, of Boston, preach.

In those days church-going, in Massachusetts, was very generally considered an incumbent duty, and my mother has told me, that, though she could give no reason which seemed plausible for absenting herself on this occasion, yet feeling a great repugnance to making the effort, she determined to take me with her, hoping I might become restless, and thus give her an opportunity for returning. If restlessness was my habit, as is by no means unlikely, in the time of warm weather, and protracted services at “ meeting,” I was, on this occasion, either awed or entertained, so as to behave extremely well, until the sermon was nearly ended, when she took immediate advantage of my making an attempt to possess myself of her fan to take me home, declaring she could not have kept herself quiet ten minutes longer.

She was engaged to spend Monday with a sister of her cousin, then living at the foot of Washington Street, but when the time arrived, begged to be excused, as feeling wholly unable to go, saying when urged, “ I am sure something dreadful is impending, and I would rather stay at home to meet it.”

But her cousin, feeling a friendly anxiety on account of her very unusual state of mind, insisted upon the fulfilment of her promise, fearing that she would become insane if she left her alone, and trusting that going abroad might serve to divert her mind from its strange fancies, which she supposed to result entirely from her living a good deal alone, which left her too much time to brood over my father’s prolonged absence. Being herself a spinster, she probably did not understand those magnetic sympathies which, in fine natures, always exist where there is a true marriage.

It was a lovely June morning; its atmosphere comes back to me with all its balmy freshness ; so does its midday heat, and its evening shadows ; it is the first day I wholly remember. I did not often take morning walks with my mother in that direction, and I recall the street as it then appeared, so different from what it now is, as I gambolled on before her, my capacity for happiness being tilled, and now and then running back for a moment, to look up at her wonderingly, because she did not seem to feel as I did. As we passed down what is now Cabot Street, it was just after the eight-o’clock mail had been distributed. A gentleman stood outside an open window, reading something from the newspaper to a person on the inside. As he looked up, and seemed to see us, he walked rapidly away. Mother caught her cousin by the arm, as we approached the house, begging her to return home immediately. "See,” said she, “Mr. — has spoken to his sister, and she is walking across the room to look at me, wondering to see me here; that paper contains some dreadful news of Henry ! ” And it is, to say the least, singular that this was all true. Yet she did not know he had left Naples, and, as to anything she knew, had no occasion for increased anxiety on his account. She was with difficulty persuaded to go on ; and arriving at the house, begged directly to go to a chamber, where she should see no one but her cousins. Alarmed at her strange manner, Mrs. L— seated her at a pleasant window ; and at last, taking a hint from Miss A—, with a view to divert my mother’s mind, asked her to arrange an infant wardrobe in new drawers for her, at the same time placing a nice little frock upon her lap. She mechanically took it up, and crushing it together in her hands, still sat listlessly gazing on tire view of the ocean which the window commanded, with a face so sad and unlike herself, that her cousin left the room in distress, to call in a mutual friend.

Presently a knock at the street door aroused my mother, and listening a few moments, she distinctly heard a lady who opened it say, “Do let her alone till evening ! ” “ No,” was a gentleman’s reply, “ the children in the street would tell her before she could get ten rods from this door.” While they talked my mother descended the stairs, and with a face like marble, laying her hand firmly on Deacon L—’s arm, said in a strange, hollow voice, “Yes, tell me now, I can bear anything, if you do not say he is dead! ”

She was then quietly seated in an adjoining parlor, and very gently told that my father had taken passage in the ship M—, for S—, with thirty others, on the loth of April ; that on the 20th of May she had been wrecked in a squall within ten days’ sail of home. That fifteen men — but he was not with them — escaped in the long-boat, had been taken up, and brought to Salem, having no hope that any other return could ever be made from the wreck.

I had slipped into the room, and stood close beside my mother; I did not at all comprehend what had happened, but I was thrilled with the mournful quiet of the scene ; and that room, with much of its furniture, and the faces in it, were so engraven on my memory in a few minutes, that though I never entered it again until one year ago, 1 found a distinct picture of it in my mind with which to compare its altered appearance. My mother uttered not one word, but suffered herself to be dressed and placed in a carriage, and with me seated beside her was driven home. This was about ten o’clock in the morning. She was placed in an easy-chair in her own chamber, where she sat nearly in one position, uttering no word or moan, nor in any way taking notice of the friends who passed in and out or gathered around her, until about three o’clock in the afternoon.

In the mean time I suppose I was the charge of no one in particular ; so after dinner I contrived to steal out of doors unobserved, without any sunbonnet, and being soon enticed by some rude children into the street, was met by a friend on her way to my mother, racing up and down, at quite a distance from the house, heated and covered with dust. She took me by the hand to lead me back ; but at the door I resolutely refused to enter. Some one went to my mother, and said, “ Cannot you go and speak to Fanny? She is making herself sick by running about the street in the hot sun.”

She started at that, walked to the entry, and seated herself at the top of a flight of stairs just as some one was bringing me up by force. Being perfectly beside myself with excitement, I struck out with my little hands, hitting my poor mother on the face, and then clung sobbing to her neck.

This broke the spell for her ; she clasped me in her arms, and for a time her tears flowed freely. I was then taken in charge by a friend, and she was led back to her seat, where she presently relapsed into her former condition, having as yet uttered no word.

At sunset her minister and very intimate friend, the good J— E—, who had been out of town all day, came in and sat down at her side.

Being a man of strong sympathies, now deeply moved, he sat for some time, like the friends of Job, and “ spake no word, because he saw that her grief was very great.” Then, as he afterward said, " feeling that her condition was becoming dangerous,” he “ tried this experiment to arouse her.” Taking her hand, he said in a low, distinct voice : “ Sister L—, will you come to the church on Sunday and hear me offer prayer to God for you as a widow, and address the people?” She instantly startled him and all in the chamber by raising her tearless face and exclaiming, “ 1 have not yet heard that Henry is dead ! ” And when one near her whispered, “ Poor child ! she has gone crazy ! ” she added, almost cheerfully, “ God may have prepared a plank to save him, and he may be taken from some rock in the ocean.” And “at that moment,” as she afterward often said, “ my first ray of hope dawned upon me.”

I well remember, as night came on, how dreary and sad it seemed to me to be undressed by stranger hands, and told that my mother could not come to me. But I was saddened into obedience then, and made no resistance.

Following on this “heavy day” came a month of agony, which made fearful demands upon my dear mother’s physical constitution, naturally a very fine one, and from which, indeed, she never wholly recovered to the end of her life, which closed at sixty-eight years. I have often heard my father say to her, “ The wreck made greater ravages upon your constitution than upon mine, for I think I was made over, and might date my age from 1810.” And it is true, that from the time of his perfect recovery, which was astonishingly rapid after his return home, no one could enjoy greater freedom from physical ills for more than half a century. This month, passed in cruel alternations of hope and despair, to which my mother perforce abandoned herself, was a very distinct period for strong impressions upon my infant imagination. I had the daily recreation of being sent to school, which was kept by Ma’am O— on the other side of our house ; but at home I remember how sad and lonely I was, missing my dear mother’s cheerful words and smiles ; for she said that before this stroke really fell upon her, though wearied and worn with her anxious fears, she always exerted herself to be cheerful with me, and I only saw in her my loving playmate and the tender guardian on whom I leaned for everything. Now 1 sat alone at my meals, while she paced the room in such a changed and mournful mood that I hardly knew where to turn for comfort at home. She has told me that one day, after arranging my table and placing my food before me, she turned to her listless, restless pacing up and down, for some time absorbed in her own melancholy musings, when she was at last aroused by a very deep sigh from me, and looking up, found me sitting just as she had left me, my food all untouched, gazing sadly at her. And in reply to her inquiries, I said: “I am hungry, but I do not like to eat. so. I went into Emily’s house,” — Emily was a little playmate in the neighborhood, — “and she was eating nice dinner with her mother, and they were laughing as we did.” After that she was regular in sitting at the table and making efforts to eat, but said she could rarely force herself to swallow, such a vivid picture of my father, starving somewhere, would come before her and destroy all power of eating. Had she known his actual state, she said this vision could not have seemed to her more real. And for this entire month she never once disrobed herself for ordinary rest in bed, but would continue her restless to-andfro movement, until from sheer exhaustion, sometimes, not until toward morning, she would throw herself upon my bed, and, dressed as she was, fall into uneasy slumbers.

During these weeks, not one of her friends supposed there could be the slightest reason to hope my father would ever again be heard from. Yet if any one suggested this to her, it directly produced the effect upon her of Mr. E—’s question, and her imagination would at once present some mode of rescue. And thus, though she still evidently remained in perfect possession of her reason, she afterward knew they all looked to see her suddenly, perhaps hopelessly, deprived of it. My grandmother was very desirous of having us come to her at W— Beach, and a friend one day took us there ; but my mother could not endure the wide views of the ocean which the house commanded, and begged to be allowed to return at once to her own lonely home.

Toward the close of her term of sorrow, having once thrown herself down, as usual, toward morning for rest, she dreamed that she was standing at a door of my grandmother’s house, from which a wide view of the harbor could be seen ; a heavy shower of rain was falling which suddenly ceased, and, at once, the setting sun lighted up the whole bay. Presently she discovered a plank, with three men upon it, approaching the land ; while she looked it “ came ashore,” and the first man who leaped upon the beach was my father. She started to her feet, with a wide-awake assurance that he was safe. And as the light of a summer morning was abroad, though the sun had not arisen, she felt that she must speak of it to somebody. So taking me up in my little night-dress, she at once took my road to school over the attic stairs, and presented herself at “ Ma’am O—’s ” bedside, feeling quite sure of her sympathy. Gently arousing the dear old lady, she told her dream, and added, “ O, I believe he is safe, and I shall surely see him again ! ”

The face, now beaming with hope, so changed from the expression it wore as she saw it only the evening before, filled “ Ma’am O—” with dismay ; and being so strangely aroused, she scarcely knew how to address her, feeling that now indeed reason had fled ; so, taking her hand soothingly, she said, “ Yes, dear, dreams are sent to bless us, but we must remember they are only dreams.”

My mother did not suspect what fears she had excited, but feeling that, even here, she had somehow been misunderstood, she slowly and wearily led me, wondering at it all, back to her own room, and felt greater depression than ever from that morning. But the day of relief was drawing nigh. In about a week after this time my father was brought to his mother’s house, as you may remember, about nine o’clock in the evening. After the first shock of the arrival was over, it was my grandmother’s first care to endeavor to have my mother and myself brought to them as soon as possible. And forgetting the hour, on a lonely road, my uncle’s wife, with my eldest cousin, then a little girl, ran directly to the house of Captain M—, their nearest neighbor, who yet lived at a considerable distance ; knowing that, as he owned a carriage, he would be only too happy to start immediately on this “ errand of mercy.” Nor did they underrate his kindness. As soon as his chaise could be got in readiness, he set off at once, feeling, as he afterwards said, that he “ could consider what to do when he arrived, as lie went along.”

That, besides being wise and benevolent, he was a man of tact, was exhibited on this occasion. I do not remember that I ever saw him afterward, but I think I perfectly recollect his face, voice, and whole deportment on that night.

When he arrived it was after all on the street had retired to rest; and he drove to the house of our sympathizing next-door neighbor, Mr. P—, the son-in-law of Ma’am O—, with whom he was well acquainted. After arousing him and his wife from their slumbers, they decided to go together, having first consulted Ma’am O—, to have my mother gently aroused by her, and gradually prepared for their thrilling intelligence. But unfortunately the door was opened to them by a well-meaning but injudicious woman, who acted in the capacity of a servant in the house ; and while the gentlemen were communicating to one who followed her some of their facts, she rushed over those stairs, and, before Mr. P—, who saw what she aimed at, could overtake her, she had seized the latch of my mother’s chamber door, which was locked, and, shaking it violently, shouted, “ Miss L—, Miss L—, get up. Your husband’s down at the door, alive and well! ”

My poor mother had thrown herself face downward across the foot of her bed in a despairing mood a short time before, and thus had fallen into a troubled sleep. Judge, if you can, what a shock this clamor and those words must have produced upon one in her excited condition. She shrieked, and gathering the bed-cover in her hands, drew it tightly over her head, declaring afterward that, if she had heard that sound again, she must have instantly gone distracted. But in a moment the mild voice of Mr. P— was heard, saying in a low, soothing, yet perfectly distinct tone, which fell on her ear “like oil on the troubled waves,” “ No, no, dear. If you could presently open your door, here is Captain M—, who can tell you there is good reason to hope there is some real news of your husband.” This calmed her in an instant, so much she could bear to listen to ; and in a little time, taking me on her lap, she was seated and quietly listening, while Captain M—, cautiously beginning with the fact that news had arrived of my father, after much suffering, having been taken on board a vessel from a small boat, gradually announced that the vessel was bound to G—, and at length, that it had arrived ; that he had been taken to his mother’s house that evening ; and now, could she prepare herself and me to go to my grandmother’s to meet him there ?

She listened like one in a dream, and at last said slowly and mournfully, “ Have you seen him ? Are you sure he is living, and can live till I get there ? ” He replied, “ I have not myself seen him ; your mother sent to me, and I came for you without any delay ; but I fully believe him to be living, though probably in a very exhausted condition ; he sent for you to come to him.” She then quietly began to dress me, to which I passively submitted, and distinctly remember sitting perfectly still on a chair, while my mother moved noiselessly about the hushed room, dimly lighted with only a nurse-lamp, and that strange gentleman sitting there, also perfectly quiet. No wonder the marked countenance and iron-gray hair left an image strongly impressed. And now we go out into the open air, and are carefully placed in the chaise. It was near the middle of a hot night in July, and there was a very clear moonlight. When I wish perfectly to recall the whole of that picturesque road to W— Beach, now so much travelled for its extreme beauty, I can shut my eyes and see every point of it as it was then daguerreotyped upon my brain, on that strange moonlit night, so long, long ago.

Not a word was spoken by any one until we came to that remarkable bend in the road, at the top of the hill near M— Beach, where the wide and beautiful ocean view bursts so suddenly upon the gaze ; then my mother gently laid her hand on the reins, and said in an imploring tone, “O Captain M—, do stop here, and turn your horse to carry me home ! This is only a dream ; it must be so; I cannot bear to go on ! ” With true tact, he instantly stopped the horse, and quietly settling himself into a posture for discussion, replied, “ I do not at all wonder at your doubts; I myself stopped my horse as I was going to your house, and it was just at this turn of the road too, and asked myself, ‘ Am I not dreaming ? Am I not on my way to excite hopes in that poor suffering young woman that cannot be realized ? ' Then I paused and reflected some time, and finally said to myself, ‘ No, I cannot be mistaken ; so many persons cannot all have been dreaming ; our neighbor and her little niece certainly came to my house at a very late hour for them, and waking my wife and myself, told their story, and returned; then we called up our son, who harnessed the horse, my wife helping me to get ready ; we could not all have dreamed.’ ” Still he saw doubt resting on my mother’s face ; still humoring her mood, he said, “ I think we had better go on till we come toward ‘ Sandy Way,’ where you know we can see your mother’s house at a considerable distance ; if it is lighted up at this hour, we will go on ; if it is all dark, we will return.” To this she consented, though still unbelieving, saying not another word, until turning a corner they came in full view, though still at a distance, of the western end of the dear old homestead, illuminated even to the garret window. “Then,” she afterward said, “ I felt assured.” And imagination busied itself, during the remainder of the ride, in picturing “ a wasted form, scarcely able to recognize her, bolstered up in the bed, which it would never again quit alive.” As the chaise drove up the ample green yard to the front door, my father stood at it, extending his arms to his wife and child. As they received me, my mother fell senseless to the ground, before any one could prevent her fall.

In the confusion which ensued I remember nothing more distinctly than a thrill of fear which pervaded me, when I felt myself in my father’s arms; for a moment, I think I had an undefined feeling that he was not a real man,— perhaps I had heard of ghosts, I cannot now tell. I was too young when he left home to remember him as he was then, so he had always been only an idea to me, and of late I suppose strange images of him had presented themselves to my childish fancy. But if dread was really my first association with him, no child could ever have had in after life less occasion to connect that idea with a father.

We remained a few days at W— Beach, until my father felt able to return to our own home. Even here, crowds of people had come to visit him, — many more than he was able to converse with, especially while recent suffering, which he shrunk from alluding to, was so fresh in his memory. But for weeks after his return, my mother said that, though he carefully avoided all voluntary allusion to the subject during the day, yet at night, as soon as his eyes were closed in sleep, he would startle her with such ejaculations as, “For God’s sake, hail the boat, E—! ”

In after life I often heard persons say to him, “ How could you ever dare to trust yourself at sea again?” To which he would reply, “ I felt ten times more confidence than ever, after being rescued from such dangers.”

And so it was that, in six months after his return, he sailed for the West Indies.