by Diana Menefy
I tried to keep out of the way of the adults as much as possible, and not annoy George by hanging around him. I got to talk to Mrs Morley each day, but not for long, and I never had a chance to play with little Ann.
I was lonely, and, although I was tolerated because George and his brothers had ordered it, I knew that at any time one of the other men could smash my head in with a single blow and I would be dead like the rest of the crew. I tried not to dwell on the thought, but it was there in the back of my mind all the time, keeping me on edge.
One afternoon a big group of natives arrived in canoes. There was lots of nose-rubbing and loud shouting, and as the visitors walked up towards the village I spied Mr Pritchard walking at the back of them. He was skinny and his clothes were ragged, but he was still alive. I wanted to call out to him. I was so happy to see him.
But I had to wait to talk to him. The natives sat in two groups. One of George’s brothers stood up to make a speech and went on and on, gesturing with his hands and thumping his stick on the ground. And there was laughter. Then someone from the other group stood up and started talking. By then the women were gathered behind, listening and sometimes singing.
When they started passing the food around in baskets, I got up and moved behind the women and slid in next to Mr Pritchard.
‘I’m glad to see you, young Thomas,’ he said, with a big grin. I saw that his chipped tooth was missing, and the one next to it too.
‘How did you escape?’ I whispered.
‘Five of us climbed up into the rigging and spent the night there. Next morning this chief turned up in his canoe. He called out in English. Told us he’d take care of us. We got into the canoe. He said his name was Te Pahi, and he was a Bay of Islands chief and a friend of the English king.
‘He took us to land, but two other canoes followed us. We scrambled ashore and raced off, but the other savages chased us. I was the last one standing, and I turned to fight them with my fists, yelling my head off. I don’t know why they didn’t kill me, too. I’ve been making fish hooks out of the iron hoops and that seems to keep them happy. What about you?’
I told him what had happened. And about Mrs Morley and what George had said about the massacre.
‘I don’t trust them savages. They keep looking at me with a nasty glint,’ he said. ‘You’d better go back where you’re safe.’
I tried to argue with him; I wanted to stay and talk more, but he insisted.
In the morning the canoes were gone, Mr Pritchard with them. Seeing and talking to him, then having him leave, somehow made things worse. I was lonelier than ever. Instead of joining the other boys when they got up, I sneaked off into the woods and lay down among the ferns. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide for long, but I wanted to be alone in my misery. It was different for Mrs Morley — she had Ann to cuddle and talk to.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
May 1810, on the City of Edinburgh —
off the coast of South America
By mid-May we were only about ten days from the closest port, Valparaiso. The fronts continued to cross our path, with squalls of rain and hail that screamed through the rigging and made my ears ring.
One afternoon I was balanced on the foot-ropes beneath the yard of the upper topsail, trying to reef the sail, when a strong gust of wind hit. The force of the sail bellying out pushed me backwards, and at the same time Kee’s body slammed into mine. The unexpected impact loosened my grip on the jackstay just as the ship rolled and the yard lurched. My boots slipped on the foot-rope, and for a fraction of a second I thought I was going to fall. The weight of my body jerked on my other hand, but my fingers instinctively clenched around the gasket. I grabbed at the jackstay again and gripped until my knuckles were white. A clew-line smacked across the top of my hand, making my eyes smart, but I clung tight until the ship righted itself and my heart stopped quivering.
One look at Kee’s grinning face and I knew it had been deliberate.
‘You bastard!’ I yelled, but the wind plucked the words from my mouth and tossed them at the sailor on the other side of me. He shot me a startled look.
Later, when we’d finished reefing the sail, I climbed down the ratlin and waited until Kee stepped onto the deck.
‘You’re a piece of shit,’ I said.
‘Shat yer-self, did yer?’ Kee said, and laughed. ‘Watch out, pretty-boy, yer might not be so lucky next time.’
At the end of that watch I sat in the galley with Dunc, sipping hot cocoa.
‘Tell Mr Berry. He won’t let Kee get away with it,’ Dunc said.
‘It would only make things worse.’
‘What you going tae do then?’
‘I’ll think of something,’ I said, but I really had no idea. I just knew that day would be the last time I would work on the rigging next to Kee — if I could help it.
Between gales, the sea settled down and we continued the tedious journey up the coast of Chile. One morning, at the change to the forenoon watch, Mr Berry ordered all hands on deck. He announced that the food supplies were beginning to run short and he wanted to reduce rations. I couldn’t believe the way some of the others reacted — loud protests, swearing and threats. McGavey, one of the helmsmen from the larboard watch, said he spoke for most of the men, and it wasn’t fair to expect them to work on half-rations. So Mr Berry agreed to continue as usual, but warned that the food could run out before we reached Valparaiso if we had too many more storms.
Everyone went back to work. Those of us who’d just come off watch collected our meal from the galley, and after I’d finished eating I went up to the great cabin to write while it was still calm. There was no one in the cabin and I thought I’d get a good spell of writing done, but I’d hardly started when Dunc threw the door open.
‘You gotta come. We need help tae trim the sails,’ he said, and I could hear the urgency in his voice.
‘We’ve just got off watch. What’s up?’ I asked.
‘McGavey and his lot have mutinied.’
‘What!’
‘They wanted Mr Berry tae run the ship ashore. Tae get some fresh food, I think. He refused, so they’ve gone below and won’t work.’
‘They’re mad. Captain Patterson could order them all flogged.’
‘C’mon — Mr Russell said now!’ and Dunc took off.
I put the ink back in its holder and went down to join those on deck. That anyone could just stop work with the state the ship was in was beyond belief. I worked my anger out on the ropes.
It was a long day, and my arms were aching by the time Captain Patterson said we could go below. Lucky for us the wind stayed steady. With the help of the officers and the few men who hadn’t mutinied, all went well.
And next morning the mutineers returned to their duties as if nothing had happened.
I found it hard to believe that they’d got away with it: Captain Thompson would have had them all flogged.
Dunc said Mr Berry was soft. It wasn’t the first time some of the crew had mutinied over rations. In Kororareka, ten of the men from Port Jackson had demanded an increase in rations. When Mr Berry had refused, they’d stopped work. He’d stopped their rations. After a few days of no food they’d tried to go fishing in the native canoes, but Tupe, a Bay of Islands chief, had refused to let them and said his people wouldn’t give them food either. Thanks to Tupe, the mutineers had returned to work.
I wondered if Mr Berry let them off this time because we were so far from home and there was very little chance of changing the crew. Some of the men had painful saltwater boils, others had ulcers or swollen gums. I guess he felt sorry for them. But this was one question I decided not to ask Mr Berry.
Back in the great cabin with free time again now that the mutineers were back on watch, I got out the ink.
December 1809, at the village at Wangaroa
The days carried on much the same, and some nights I slept without the nightmares intruding. It never occurred to me that we would be rescued — I thought no one kn
ew where we were. I knew that eventually my family would work out I wasn’t coming back, although they’d think the Boyd had gone down with all hands. It happened often enough at sea. Knowing I wouldn’t see them again brought the tears to my eyes. I tried to tell myself that I was better off than Will and John, and this place wasn’t totally bad.
There were good moments: hearing the birds singing with the changing grey morning sky, watching the pigeons do loops in the air and tumble through the branches (only they weren’t like the pigeons back home — these ones had beautiful colours), chatting to the little birds with the fanlike tails that flitted around me when I walked in the woods. The hardest part was having no one to share it with.
I had started avoiding Mrs Morley if I could. She was getting thinner and her face looked gaunt. Her life was much worse than mine.
Twice I’d been able to slip into the woods and explore. The ground was covered with masses of ferns and twisted black vines. Some of the trees were massive, with huge trunks as wide as a horse is long and no branches until way up high. They had smooth dappled bark, and where the bark had been slashed there oozed liquid the colour of warm honey that dripped like candle wax. I tried tasting a bit, but it was bitter and I spat it out. I’d seen a native pull a piece off and pop it in his mouth, and I’m sure it’s what they passed around while they sat and talked in the evenings, taking turns to chew.
I now knew the native words for tree (rakau), hut (whare), dog (kuri) and rat (kiore). They eat the rats here — catch them in a snare, cook them, and pour fat over before storing them. I thought I’d go hungry rather than eat one, but I was eating all sorts of weird things now. Ma wouldn’t believe it.
Then one morning three boats came up the harbour. Most of the natives went down to the river to see who was coming. I followed them, mildly curious, but as the boats came closer my breath caught in my throat and my heart stopped. I could see a ship’s officer in the lead boat, and sailors with muskets while the others manned the oars. I leapt forward, trying to push my way through. There were shouts from the men in front, and some of them started running back towards the village. One of the warriors grabbed my arm and dragged me along a path, through flax and shrubs, and out of sight. While the others rushed back to the village we squatted there, behind several thick clumps of flax. My heart thumped and I struggled to be free of his grip. Another native arrived with Mrs Morley and Ann. I was tempted to call out, but the fierce glare I got when I opened my mouth stopped me. We stayed, quiet and still, amid the flax, waiting to see what was going to happen. Mrs Morley squeezed my hand, hope wild in her eyes.
I wriggled a bit so I could see what was happening through a gap in the flax. The boats pulled up on the river bank and one of the natives started towards the village; later I found out that his name was Metanangha. George, two other chiefs and a group of warriors came to meet him. After some discussion they all headed back down to the boats.
I could see them talking and waving their arms about. Then one of the chiefs climbed aboard the lead boat with the officer and they all headed out of sight up the river. The sailors got back into their boats and left too, heading down-river.
I had been so sure they’d come to rescue us. I could tell by the way Mrs Morley slumped on the ground that she’d thought so, too. There were tears in her eyes. My chest sucked in as if a huge boot was pushing down on it. I tried to speak, to say something to Mrs Morley, failed and tried again, but it seemed as if my despair had dried up all the words.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
May 1810, on the City of Edinburgh —
heading towards Valparaiso
On 24 May we ran into another gale with furious winds. All hands were ordered on deck and we struggled to keep the ship — already in a desperate state — afloat. At the height of the next gale we saw a ship just ahead of us struggling with the same wind. We hoisted the British flag and our distress signal, and fired a gun. She raised the Yankee flag, but as soon as the southerly wind filled in she braced her yards and bore away without speaking. If the curses from our crew had had any power, she should have sunk.
I was still up the rigging when a huge gust from the southwest hit and the sail bellied over my head. The ship rolled heavily and I hung on for dear life, eyes screwed shut, waiting for the sail to go slack. Above the noise of the wind I thought I heard a cry, then a thud, but then the wind was back, screaming in my ear, cutting out all other sound.
At last the sail flapped and we all grabbed at it, tucking every bit we could under our bodies as we leant on the yard. Finally it was secured and I looked down at the deck. There was a sailor lying crumpled, and several others standing around him. It wasn’t until I cleared the ratlins that I found out that it was Kee. I felt as though I’d taken a punch to the gut.
I found it hard to sleep that night between watches. I’d hated Kee and often wished him dead, but I hadn’t meant it. Not really dead. I consoled myself that at least it was a clean death. No one had hacked him to pieces. I wondered if he’d had time to be scared.
Shortly after dawn we all assembled by the mizzen-mast. Kee’s body was brought up from below decks, wrapped in a weighted canvas shroud. Four of the sailors from his watch were carrying him. Captain Patterson stood at the head of the plank and read the burial service. His voice was solemn. Dunc stood on the other side from me. I tried to catch his eye, but he didn’t look my way.
As Captain Patterson read out ‘We therefore commit the body of our shipmate to the deep’, the head of the plank was raised, and Kee’s body slid into the sea and sank out of sight.
The mood was subdued as we went back to our quarters or onto watch. I sat next to Dunc, but he didn’t speak to me.
‘What’s up with you?’ I asked.
‘I can’t believe you did that.’
‘Did what?’
‘Kee.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I know he bullied you, but I thought you were different.’
‘I haven’t any idea what—’
And then I realized: Dunc thought I’d deliberately pushed Kee to his death.
‘I didn’t! How could you think that?’ I stared at him in horror. ‘You’re meant to be my friend.’ I walked away from him, my chest tight, my mind a blur of misery.
For several hours, indignation crouched on my shoulders. Will would never have believed that. I wished he hadn’t died. Everything had been fun with him. I could think about him now without the tears welling in my eyes. I stayed away from Duncan for the rest of the day.
As I watched the sun slip into the water that evening I realized I’d changed, grown harder. I turned to go below and saw Duncan standing with his back against the lee bulwark, staring down at his feet. I went over and stood next to him.
‘You told me you’d think of something, that time when he tried to push you off — remember?’ he said.
‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’d kill him.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to think. You were both up there. And then you acted so strange afterwards. Just lay in your hammock and didn’t talk to me.’
‘I was feeling guilty. I’d wished him dead so often. And then he was dead and I realized I hadn’t meant it. I mean, he was a bastard and he picked on people — or me at any rate — but he didn’t deserve to die.’
‘I’m sorry, Thomas,’ Dunc muttered.
I thumped him on the shoulder. It didn’t matter anymore. I knew now that Dunc would never be able to replace Will.
Kee’s death seemed to signal an end to the storms. We limped into Valparaiso a week later, about the end of May, and let go the anchor close to shore in the shelter of a rocky peninsula that would protect us from the south and west.
The town was spread on the slopes above us. I’d never seen anything like it. The buildings were so different from ours with their smoothed walls, low terracotta-tiled roofs and curved shapes. I couldn’t wait to go ashore and explore.
A boat with two officials and six ar
med men in uniform pulled alongside. We stood by the bulwark watching, uncertain of our reception. No one talked. Then Mr Berry and Captain Patterson were shaking hands with the officials and they were all laughing, gesturing and talking.
I found out later that the captain of the American ship had told them to expect the wreckage of an English vessel on the coast some days ago because they’d seen one in great distress. The officials were amazed that we’d managed to come so far in such poor condition. And then the mood changed. They couldn’t believe that we’d reached Chile without rounding the Horn and became suspicious that we were smugglers.
The soldiers examined the hold and all our trunks and boxes. When they discovered I had no sea chest they thought I must be trying to hide something. The soldiers didn’t understand much English and started to get rough. Dunc slipped out and brought Mr Berry back with one of the officials. Mr Berry explained that I was a survivor from the Boyd, along with the passenger Mrs Morley and the two little girls.
Eventually the officials and soldiers left satisfied, assuring Mr Berry that he could take a boat ashore for fresh provisions immediately. That night we ate like kings — meat and vegetables, fresh bread and fruit. Doc warned us not to stuff ourselves or we’d spend the night at the heads. I was lucky. I woke up with an awful pain in my stomach that exploded in several loud bursts of wind, but after that I was able to go back to sleep despite the groans and noises from some of the others.
The next day Mr Berry and Mr Russell went to the town to organize proper repairs to the rudder and buy a new mast. Dunc was allowed to visit the town with some of the others. I had to stay behind and finish my account of the massacre.
‘I want to send it to Mr Brown along with the Boyd‘s logbook and my record of the rescue as soon as I find a ship going to London,’ Mr Berry said.
‘But I’ve nearly finished. It won’t take me long.’