~~
“IT WAS the beginning of summer of 1832, just over two years ago now, that I signed on to be First Mate of the grand ship Lady Glasgow. And a grand vessel she was, Oliver. She was constructed from bow to stern and keel of the finest robust Scandinavian hard oak. You may remember my beginnings. How I started my career at an early age having spent my childhood around the wharf. It was from one ship to another every time one docked. And that was with the blessings of that kindly retired American teacher. You may remember she saved me from the orphanage by taking me in as a child.
“After my formal training and apprenticeships aboard your ship, I wanted some adventure in my life. After all, I wasn’t married or tied down to anyone, what with no parents either, I signed on to the Lady. The voyage was to be a bold one. We were to sail across the Atlantic to the coast of Brazil. We would ‘round the tip of South America, and proceed northward across the vast Pacific. The plan was to dock at ports of several islands along the way and end up at Tahiti. Then, later if we were up to it, as far as the Orient. I questioned the ship captain’s sanity, yes, but I was ripe for adventure.
“The voyage was unremarkable, except for running thin on supplies between ports on a few occasions. There were, of course, the usual fist-fights between the crew. We even managed fine around the cold, windy, and treacherous Straits of Magellan.
“After sailing many tedious weeks in Pacific waters our luck seemed to change. It was after we made an unscheduled but necessary stop on the coast of Easter Island. This was some two thousand miles from the South American mainland. Pitcairn’s Island was still too far to the west. While there we restocked up on plenty of fruit and small game which ran rampant within the island. We needed to stretch our provisions when possible.
“The men had become tired of being held within the confines of the ship and wanted to go exploring the island. We found the damnedest things there. There were large, grim looking stone faces, like idols. These were hewed from solid rock and planted throughout the island. We surmised they were left there by some forgotten native civilization. They were old and unexplainable, thus the men feared it was an omen of bad luck to have stumbled upon these strange uncomely monuments. There was also a dead volcano at the north end which explained how the island came to be. The men became convinced it would come to life and erupt at any moment to kill us all, so we sailed on.
“Somber stories of superstition and doom started to make its rounds amongst the crew. The stories were fueled, of course, by the Jamaican rum we carried. The crew was growing tired of the long voyage and of each other. Finally, while sailing somewhere many days distance beyond Easter Island, a serious altercation broke out. The tensions that had been brewing must have come to the surface. Sometime in the middle of the night, I was awakened by a sailor yelling of a fire in the hold of the ship! And the hundred pounds of black powder we had stowed there took care of the rest…”
“Good God, Rik. The Lady Glasgow must ‘ave looked like a bloody Chinese New Year what with all tha’ powder goin’ off!”
“Indeed, Oliver, it was a nightmare. The skies lit up and the ship went down it seemed in a few minutes like she was made of lead. I remember sitting up in my bunk when a thunderous noise deep within the bowels of the vessel shook my cabin. The tremors grew in magnitude until the walls seemed to rip apart about me. I got caught up in the din and chaos of smoke and flying lumber. Suddenly a wall of choking black sea water came gushing at me.
The torrent of water lifted me and carried me out through the large breach in the side of the vessel. Fortunately, I was thrown well away from the remaining explosions. This was the only reason I survived. Every time the fire touched another powder keg yet another section of the ship was consumed.
I managed to climb atop a thick floating door that had separated from the ship. I could hear the screams, and see bodies separated from their limbs, spewing blood and entrails. I saw them being flung into the air… it was horrible. I was thankful to get out of these shark-infested waters and onto my raft. I had just then climbed atop when some heavy object hit my temple, and everything went black.
I recall a throb in my head when I opened my eyes again to see daylight. The position of the sun indicated I had been without consciousness until the following day. I could tell it was a new morning. By some miracle, I was still on my temporary raft, and there was nothing around me but endless sea. I was alone! No food, no water! I realized then how merciful it would have been to have drowned with the rest of the crew. I was alive yet I knew that I had been sentenced y fate to die a slow grueling death. It would be from starvation, exposure, and lack of water just for the misfortune of having survived the sinking of the Lady.”
Oliver poured some more brandy from the decanter he had brought with him. “That thought alone 'as driven many a sailor into lunacy, y’ know. Here, lad. Y’ve earned some more of me best spirits.”
“Thanks.” Rik sipped and continued his saga...
“By the third day on the raft, I did indeed believe delirium was setting in. The scorching sun was blistering my skin; my lips were parched and split. Oliver, I would have gladly given my right arm for a drink of water.
“By now my vision had become blurred so as to make me doubt the sight of a darkness that had taken shape in the distance. A mirage, I thought. The ocean currents were taking me in that direction. The dark mirage became what looked like a coastline. A smoky solid mass of rock and trees then became visible. Finally, I saw what appeared to be white sand. Illusion or not, now I dared to hope. To my joy, it was not a hallucination but, in fact, the place of my deliverance.
“Somehow I found sufficient strength to paddle with my arms toward shore. When I thought my arms could go no further I saw the sandy bottom. I rolled off my raft and landed in a few feet of warm ocean.
“In pain I half-floated half-crawled, the salt water burning the cracked skin of my face and arms. I was being carried at the whims of the foamy waves the rest of the way to dry land. At one point I recall digging my fingers into the wet sand—something I thought I would never do again! With every bit of strength I could muster I managed to drag and claw myself forward. Up away from the surf lest the waters steal me back to the watery grave from which it had been cheated.
“Now my exhaustion was both agonizing and complete. There was not a place on my body where I did not perceive pain. The emptiness of my stomach mattered little now. I was spent, and my pain and my surroundings melted into the welcomed blackness of unconsciousness.
“While I slept—if you can call that sleep—I recall having strange dreams. More accurately, they were nightmares, of drowning, of explosions, of being eaten by sharks. Then something odd happened. I dreamed vividly of being lifted off the sand and dragged. I dreamed of drinking cool fresh water and warm soup, and of a long-haired lass standing over me. She was like an angel coming to save me...”
“Ye poor bloke," the Blakeshire said. "It was a delirium what with no food or water for th' spell such as ye had!” The captain missed the almost imperceptible wave of pain that broke across Rik’s handsome face.
“When I came to, I had some difficulty in opening my eyelids of course. I could hear the mesmerizing sounds of the waves, now strangely at some distance. I sensed somehow that time had passed, perhaps even days. I knew that would have been impossible for I would be dead by now. I forced away the fog and confusion from my mind with some difficulty, trying to bring some clarity of thought. My body felt useless, my muscles like mush. Even my bones ached, but I was able to sit up.
“What a startle to have found myself not just alive but on the ground within the confines of a primitive dwelling of some sort. It was structured out of a sapling framework. There were palm tree leaves, branches, and vines, all interwoven into a tight latticework for walls and roof. Placed all around were turtle shells of different sizes, sea conches and the like.
“Good God, I thought, could the
re really be some civilization on this island. Or was this the abandoned abode of a poor deceased beached sailor in much the same predicament as myself ? It appeared they left all their belongings behind as it looked uninhabited. I moved my sluggish body but could not yet stand erect. I looked about me through still foggy eyes examining the interior of the dwelling. The silence and surrounding tranquility told me I was indeed alone.
I surmised, in my delirium, I must have been able to wander around and encounter this place of shelter. I must have walked in my sleep quite some distance and in the right direction so it seemed. What incredible good fortune...but how the blazes did I have the strength to walk away from the surf? Why wasn’t I dead?
It was then that I heard leaves rustling behind me. Turning as my feeble body would allow I saw that I had been premature in my speculations. I was in fact NOT alone on this island!