On The 24th, The Cook, A
Black Man, Died, And Was Cast Into The Sea, When He Was Instantly
Seized On By These Ravenous Monsters.
They had been several days making slow headway under their scanty
sail, when, on the 25th, they came in sight of land.
It was about
fifteen leagues distant, and they remained two or three days
drifting along in sight of it. On the 28th, they descried, to
their great transport, a canoe approaching, managed by natives.
They came alongside, and brought a most welcome supply of
potatoes. They informed them that the land they had made was one
of the Sandwich Islands. The second mate and one of the seamen
went on shore in the canoe for water and provisions, and to
procure aid from the islanders, in towing the wreck into a
harbor.
Neither of the men returned, nor was any assistance sent from
shore. The next day, ten or twelve canoes came alongside, but
roamed round the wreck like so many sharks, and would render no
aid in towing her to land.
The sea continued to break over the vessel with such violence,
that it was impossible to stand at the helm without the
assistance of lashings. The crew were now so worn down by famine
and thirst, that the captain saw it would be impossible for them
to withstand the breaking of the sea, when the ship should
ground; he deemed the only chance for their lives, therefore, was
to get to land in the canoes, and stand ready to receive and
protect the wreck when she should drift ashore.
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