Revised Jun 1 2021
THE closing months of 1873, and almost the entire year of 1874, was the period when, more than any other, the island suffered from the effects of drought. As ships, the only means of communication possible with the outside world, very seldom called at the island during the years that followed the arrival of both parties from Norfolk Island, the inhabitants seemed to occupy a little world entirely by themselves, and might have remained in their remote isolation for an indefinite time were not that an unlooked-for event happened, which led to the little island's receiving much attention from many who until now had never known of its existence, and to the reviving again of the interest shown by those who in former years proved themselves true friends.
Toward the close of January, 1875, the Liverpool ship Cornwallis, of the firm of Balfour, Williamson & Co., homeward bound from San Francisco, came in sight. The captain in his boyhood had read the story of the mutineers of the Bounty and their subsequent settlement of the isolated rock, and decided that he would make a call at the place where, just eighty-five years before, Christian and his guilty party had landed. Taking with him his apprentices, they left the ship in charge of the first officer, and came ashore in their own boat, accompanied by some of the island men who had gone off to the ship.
But a very short time had elapsed after they landed when the ship was observed to be losing her ground, and, as if impelled by some unseen power, she drifted shoreward, coming on swiftly and surely to destruction. The people on shore watched with breathless anxiety and terror the doomed ship, and earnest but unavailing prayers went up that the fearful catastrophe might be averted. The poor captain, half frantic, rushed with his young men and all the island men that were within call, to the landing place, to launch the boat and put off to the vessel, that was every moment nearing the rocks. But no effort could save her, and she soon struck on some unseen rocks a few feet from the shore. Had there been ten minutes more time, she would have been saved, as the water clear to the shore is very deep, and a few minutes more would have sufficed to steer the ship clear of danger.
A few of the islanders that had remained on the ship when the boat first went off terrified beyond control at the approaching shipwreck, now hastily got into their boat and started for the shore. Meeting the captain's boat returning, they also went back to where the ship now lay, a helpless wreck. The excitement that prevailed was great, and soon everybody was near the scene of the disaster. The other men that had been engaged about their several duties when the disaster took place, now returned from the fields, and, seeing what had happened, were quickly on the rocks near where the ship lay. Swimming off to the vessel, they were soon engaged with the others who had been before them in rendering what assistance they were able, and in a short time after the ship struck, all the crew had been safely landed.
Little else was saved. The mate wished to make a return trip to the vessel in spite of the wind, that was now increasing into a gale, and at the cry, "Who will volunteer?" a ready response was given, but the darkness coming on, and the threatening weather, made it advisable to delay the effort until the next morning. The boat was once more drawn up to a place of safety, and in the gloomy darkness, with feelings still more gloomy, the captain and crew of the Cornwallis, accompanied by the islanders, men, women, and children, formed a silent procession up the steep hill path that led to the village. All that could be done for strangers thus unexpectedly thrown amongst them was done as well as their limited means afforded, and everyone willingly gave up sleeping rooms to the ship wrecked men during their enforced stay, being content that their unexpected guests should enjoy whatever could be provided for their comfort.
The chief anxiety experienced was how to find enough to feed their guests should their stay be a long one, for this addition to their number was confessedly a tax upon them in the matter of food supplies, the islanders themselves being obliged to be careful in the use of what they had, as the island had not yet recovered from the effects of the long-continued drought of the previous years. Not a thing was saved from the ship. The heavy seas rolled over the poor vessel during the night, and by morning the gale had increased to such fury that it was hopeless to attempt a return to the ship, each oncoming wave threatening to overturn it or break it in pieces. The deepest sympathy was felt for the distressed captain and his company of officers and men, but nothing could be done to alleviate the misery of their condition.
On the second day after the ship had become a wreck, she turned over and broke up by the violence of the waves. The sea around was strewn with wreckage, which floated away to leeward. The ship's life boat, uninjured, was among the things that were scattered from the ship on breaking up, and in the hope of rescuing it a crew of the islanders started to launch the captain's gig. With brave hearts and strong arms they waited for a moment's lull in the angry waves to give them an opportunity of getting safely over the dreadful surf that rolled ceaselessly in to shore. At last the moment came, and at the command, "Pull ahead," with a strength that seemed more than human, the boat was got beyond the danger of the breakers, that threatened to engulf her. In due time the life boat was reached. Being full of water, each man took turns to bail the boat. Wind and tide being both against them, the work was exceedingly heavy, but courageous hearts and willing hands insured success, and after several hours' hard battling with the sea, the gig and lifeboat were both landed in safety.
A sad accident occurred on shore while the men were engaged in rescuing the boat. A boy twelve years of age had, with some of his companions, gone down to the rocks near which the ship was wrecked to get something that floated ashore. In attempting to reach his object, he was suddenly struck down by a heavy sea, and washed off into the boiling water. The only aid that could be rendered was by means of a rope thrown to him, but before it could be brought the poor boy had sunk, bruised and killed by the wreckage that was tossing around. The poor, distracted mother witnessed the fearful scene, and in her agonizing grief made her way to the place where her boy was taken off, and would have thrown herself into the sea, as if such a sacrifice could avail to save her boy, but the arms of strong men who had followed held her back, and she was carried with great difficulty and in an unconscious state up the rocky steep to her home, where pitying friends received her and attended her through the long, dreary months of illness that followed. The father was not present when the accident took place, so word was sent to him where he was at work. He was with difficulty restrained from casting himself into the angry sea in the remote hope of finding the body of his son, but at length submitted to be led home; nor was the body ever seen again, although a search was kept up for several days.
The American ship Dauntless had come in during the day, and Captain Wilbur waited until next morning, when, on learning what had taken place, he kindly offered to take the whole crew of the Cornwallis on his ship, and give them a passage to New York, whither he was bound. The ship was wrecked on Saturday, and by Tuesday noon all her crew had left, leaving only the poor remains of the good ship to remind the people of the sad occurrence.
The September following another shipwrecked crew was we1comed to the island. The Liverpool ship Khandeish, homeward bound from San Francisco, was wrecked on the reefs of Oeno Island, and the crew, taking with them what could be saved from the ship's stores, and a little of their clothing, left in their big boat and gig for Pitcairn Island. The wind favoring, the short voyage was soon accomplished. As soon as the shipwrecked mariners' boats were seen, a crew of the islanders put off in their boat—the gig that had been left by Captain Hammond, of the Cornwallis—to meet and welcome their unlooked-for visitors. When all had landed, the crew of the ship was divided into companies of twos and threes for their better accommodation amongst the families with whom they were to stay, and who all had gone down to the beach to receive them. They were made welcome to the homes of the people, and were soon like members of the families where each sojourned, taking part in the daily labors, and joining with them in their family worship, Nov 19, 1875 as well as attending all the religious services that were held. During their stay of fifty-one days they behaved in a way to win the approval of all, and when, on the 19th of November, they left on the British ship Ennerdale for San Francisco, the parting on both sides was expressive of much sorrow. One of the men remained behind and was shortly afterwards married to a widow to whom he had become attached.
The captain, officers, and crew of the Khandeish, on their arrival in San Francisco, represented the condition of the Pitcairn islanders as a very needy one indeed, although the islanders themselves, accustomed all their lives to the simplest manner of living, did not realize so fully as their late guests did their "forlorn condition," as some of the papers expressed it. Of the treatment they received while on the island they spoke in terms of warmest gratitude, and did what they could in return for the hospitality that had been shown them. In this they succeeded beyond their utmost expectations, for the generous citizens of San Francisco responded with such heartiness that contributions kept pouring in, and every useful and necessary article that was thought of,—cooking utensils, tinware of almost every description, cups, plates, spoons, etc., etc., wooden pails and tin pails,—testified to their large-hearted liberality. Clothing made and unmade, buttons, pins, needles, etc., almost enough to stock a respectable haberdasher's shop, were contributed to the immense stock of goods collected in response to the call of charity and benevolence. A good supply of flour, a luxury to the islanders, was sent by Captain Skelly, of the Khandeish, as his contribution to the general stock. As a crowning gift to the whole, a beautifully-toned organ, of the Mason & Hamlin Organ Company, was sent.
The gifts came on different ships, the first part being brought by Captain D. A. Scribner, of the American ship St. John, which arrived at the island in March, 1876. The captain was a very dear friend of the islanders, having made repeated calls to the island before. He was intrusted with a large mail from the ship's company that had lately left the island, and whose letters were frequent in their expressions of gratitude for the kindness that had been shown them during their temporary sojourn, and were also full of praise at the munificence and generosity displayed by the good people of San Francisco, who had so willingly responded to the call for charity.
To say that the islanders were grateful for the goodness so lavishly showered upon them, would but faintly express what they really felt. Grateful indeed they were, yet none the less did they feel their unworthiness that they should be the favored recipients of so much bounty in return for the small acts of human kindness rendered their fellow-men in distress, and which they rightly considered were only their duty to do.
The organ was brought by Captain Scribner. Directly on its being landed it was lifted on the shoulders of a few strong men and borne by them up the steep path, nor was the heavy but precious burden set down until they reached the little thatch-roofed church, where it was placed beside the reading table. All the inhabitants, old and young, gathered around while Captain Scribner played, "Shall We Gather at the River?" Every voice joined in the song, and when it ended, repeated expressions of thanks were given to the kind friend who brought it, and through him to the generous friends who sent the handsome gift. Tears were in many eyes as the people stood around and witnessed the substantial proofs of the kindness they were receiving. It was a new and very delightful experience to them to listen for the first time to the tones of a perfect-keyed instrument. The only other one of the kind that the island boasted was an old harmonium, that, weak-lunged and out of tune, had been given to a young woman by the doctor of H. M. S. Petrel, which was on a day's visit to the island two months before. The old feeble instrument had been taken to pieces and cleared from the rubbish and dust that had accumulated within it, and otherwise repaired, so that now, with its really sweet tones, it served for the young people to practice their first lessons in instrumental music, which they were not slow to do, notwithstanding the fact that they had no book or teacher to aid or direct them. And now, when the new organ was opened, all who wished had the gratification of trying a few chords on it, and enjoying the power of the instrument, an experience delightful as it was new. The donors themselves would have felt rewarded had they seen how much pure enjoyment their beautiful gift conferred, a gift that was valued with keen appreciation by everyone.
Among the many and various presents sent from San Francisco, the wants of the school were not forgotten, and a large supply of schoolbooks came— books new and old, and ranging from the first to fifth and sixth readers. This want, so generously supplied, was one of the greatest that had been experienced, and the children as well as the teacher hailed with delight the prospect of having a book all to one's self, and no longer being obliged to read from the same book turn by turn. The change was truly gratifying, for before this the school had for its best reader, speller, and grammar an old copy of Lindley Murray excepted, a few antiquated copies of good old Mavor's spelling book, dog-eared, and so literally worn out that in places here and there the words were entirely obliterated and many of the leaves had become loose and dropped out through age and usage. The one venerable copy of an old book of geography was succeeded by a goodly number of others, which opened to the children's view a world hitherto undreamed of.
It would occupy too much space to give a detailed account of everything sent to the people, every article of which was gratefully received and thoroughly appreciated. In recounting the deeds of generous kindness lavishly bestowed upon the islanders from time to time, it should never be forgotten how large a debt of gratitude they owe to their friends both in Valparaiso and Honolulu, as well as in England. But while they were thankful for favors shown, the thought was none the less humiliating that, in their peculiar circumstances, they were obliged to be dependent upon the charity of others for some of the very necessaries of life. Whaling ships and trading vessels, the former sources of such supplies, now ceased almost entirely to come to the island. Had there been a way by which they could, through their own efforts, procure all that was needed for their necessities, the necessary labor would have been willingly bestowed; but their extremely isolated position rendered such efforts almost impossible.