■.%. y^W v«>, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4 /. A \s (/ /; ^^y ^ ^ 1 iit\ ^- palmer's narrative. 7 apprenticed to the Captain, and who by the great hardships that he had endured, as well as long fast- ing, was reduced almost to a skeleton. Wheth- er there was a previous understanding among some of the ship's crew, that he should be the one selected as a victim, without allowing him an equal chance with the others for his life, is well known to Him, from whom no human act can be conceal- ed ; but, whether such was the fact or not, such was the distracted state of my feelings at that mo- ment, that it was impossible for me to determine — it is enough for me to remember, nay, at the pre- sent moment, my blood chills at the bare recollec- tion of the heart-rending scene that ensued, when the fate of this poor unfortunate lad was made known to him ! he first burst into tears, and en- treated that his life might be spared for a few days, which not being allowed him, he reduced the time to a single day ; and when he found that there was even an objection to this, he became frantic, de- claring it his determination to defend himself to the last, although he retained hardly sufficient strength to support himself erect ; but, being in this respect but little inferior to that of his other shipmates, although attacked by three or four of the most able-bodied, he succeeded, with his jack- knife, in keeping them off for some minutes, when nature becoming exhausted, he foil prostrate on the deck, and in which condition he was instantly despatched, and his limbs detached from his ema- ciated body, and distributed among his still more wretched shipmates ! Frequently had I heard and read that famine had led men to the commission of such horrible excesses, that insensible on such occasions to the appeals of nature and reason, they assumed the character of beasts of prey, and deaf to every representation, coolly meditated the death of a fellow-creature ! but, foreign was it from my mind, that I should myself be brouglit not only to be an eye witness to a scene like this, but to be- i 8 palmer's narrative. come, in reality, one of its melancholy subjects ! Two days had, however, elapsed after the tragical death of the unfortunate youth, before I could be brought to follow the awful example of my starving companions ! To what woful extremities can poor human nature be driven by extreme hunger ! sure- ly, none can be truly sensible of it, except those who have experienced it. It is not necessary for me to add, that to this state, I (who had been used to luxurious living, and who had unnecessarily left a home affording " enough and to spare,") was brought ! However loathsome this food may be viewed by my readers, (some of whom may perhaps think, as I once thought, that even a lingering death by starvation, would be preferable to that of attempt- ing to appease it by the use of human flesh,) it was found insufficient to support life but a few days, when a similar plan was adopted in the selection of another victim ! and in a few days after, anoth- er ! The first of the two appeared perfectly re- conciled to his fate, and requested only a few mo- ments to prepare himself for death, which he em- ployed in fervent prayer for himself, and for our speedy deliverance, and then delivered up his life without a struggle ! But, the piteous moans and lamentations of the latter, in consequence (as he represented,) of leaving behind him a beloved wife and several small children, dependant on him for support, were truly appalling, and could not have been withstood by any but such wretched beings as we were, whose sufferings and privations had driven to a state of desperation ! This was, in re- ality, the situation of some of the unhappy surviv- ors, who, deprived of their reason, and driven to a state of raving madness, had their strength admit- ted of it, it is not improbable that they would, like ravenous beasts, have fallen upon and destroyed one another, without any regard to the plan pur- sued in the selection of victims. PALMER 8 NARRATIVE. 9 - ■ ' ' A few day previous to that on which wc were re- lieved, four of our wretched companions expired, (by the names of O'Brien, Gorham, Beham, and Burns,) and all, apparently, in a perfect state of in- sensibility, as regarded their real situations. It was astonishing to witness how different were the effects produced by their sufferings. The ravings of O'Brien and Beham, in their last moments, were like those of madmen, and whose greatest efforts (with fists clenched, and with gnashing teeth,) ap- peared to be to commit violence on those' of their shipmates by whom they were approached ; and some of whom would, no doubt, have received seri- ous injury, had they not retained sufficient strength to enable them to creep away beyond their reach. Burns, although he talked incessantly and incohe- rently, manifested a more harmless disposition — at one moment he would be engaged in singing some favorite sea song, and at the next, would ap- pear to imagine himself the commander of the wreck, calling on his shipmates (by wrong names) to attend to their duty, assuring them that there was every prospect of a short, plensant, and pros- perous voyage ! The behaviour of Gorham was dif- ferent from that of either of the three mentioned ; at intervals he appeared more rational, and not in- sensible of his situation, and while speaking of his unfortunate family as bereaved of one on whom they depended for support, would weep like a child ; but soon would appear to lose himself, and call on and talk to his children as rf present, calling them by name, and entreating them to take pity on and indulge their father with even a few drops of wa- ter. As regarded myself, although in body exhibiting the appearance of a living skeleton, yet I bore my sufferings and privations with a great degree of for- titude, until three days previous to that of our de- liverance, when it was my fate (as T was informed by my shipmates,) to become delirous. When re- 2 10 PALMER 3 NARRATirE. Stored to my reason, I recollect that while I re- mained unconscious of my situation, all appeared like a dream. I imagined myself at home, in the presence of my affectionate parents, brothers, sis- ters, &C., but confined to a sick bed, a prey to a burning fever, and tormented with most intolera- ble thirst. I plainly, as I imagined, recognized my friends, standing by my bedside, but who not only appeared to disregard my entreaties for water, but to view me with much apparent indifference ; and it was, when endeavoring by gestures, (as I either was, or imagined myself deprived of the power of speech,) to acquaint them of the true state of my feelings and the tortures with which they were af- flicting me, by refusing to indulge me with a little water with which to cool my parched throat, that my reason returned, and I became more sensible of my wretched condition. By the return of my reason my mind was once more distracted by the most awful forebodings ; be- ing sensible that by the selecting of one victim af- ter another,. we were fast reducing our number, I could not but expect that my turn would by and by come ; or, what was, if possible, still more to be dreaded, that it might hr my ^ot to survive a!! my wretched coinpanions. uu- !m .Jk labi to perish Oii th'" -.Vioi-k, nud thfjrcbv my ;itl1' icd r-'r nf- pvo' leit Hi suspense as regarded my wretched late i — There was yet another circumstance that was cal-* culated to increase, rather than to diminish our misery — the skeletons, &c. of the bodies of such of our unfortunate companions, as had been doom- ed to die by our hands, had (after having been stripped of all their flesh,) been committed to the deep, and which had, no doubt, the effect to attract numerous sharks, some of them of astonishing length, which in calm weather were always to be seen swimming around the wreck ; and which too plainly told us what our fate would be, if through 1 t t ^ d g g P Si o tl re in palmer's narrative. 11 " , -^ weakness, any of our number should be so unfor- tunate as to fall overboard. Sixteen dayji had now elapsed since that on which our unfortunate ship was capsized ; during the most of which time human flesh had been ou? only food, and this alone would have been found insufficient to have preserved our lives so lonir, had we not in this time been blessed with three or four showers, supplying us with a moderate quantity of water, and w Mch we caught by spreading and wringing our clothes. Loathsome as our food had been, the day previous to that on which we were relieved, we had partaken of the last of it, with the exception of a part of two quarters of the last vic- tim, and It was consequently considered necessary (while our strength would admit of it,) to select from among our diminished number, another, and the fourth victim ! To determine whom it should which Vr' ?.'" °f deciding by lot was adopted, which fell on the mate. The poor fellow appeared but very httle affected thereat, having been fre- Sl hn'tl '" ^^.^^^^t^hat so great were his suf- f!fi^ u I i'u ^^""'f^ *^°«« of his shipmates their tate, who had been doomed in this manner to yield T 1 ?"*u H^^ ' ^""^ '^^"^'^ ""t but hope that if it ttr . \Tu "^9^«?ary to sacrifice another, that It might fall to his lot, as he had neither wife nor children to eaye behind. His only desire was that he might die by strangulation, the deaths of ^e others having been caused by opening a vein, With the captain the fate of his mate had quite a trZ '!f''^i ^"!. attachment for him had been great, and he therefore used much persuasive ar- gument to prevail on his unfortunate crew to post- pone the sacrifice for a single day. He had, by soaking in salt water, preserved the liver and brains ot the unfortunate youth, (the first victim,) and was the next mormng about to share this, with the re- maming food, among his companions, when to the inexpressible joy of all, a vessel was descried bear- n w'-, PALMER 3 NARRATIVE. ing down for the wreck, which proved to be the brig Angeronia, Captain Gillard, bound from New- foundland to Teignmouth. When the Captain and crew succeeded in reach- «■ ing our ship's deck, and beheld the awful spectacle which we presented, and the melancholy remains of the last victim on which we had subsisted for the three days previous, they appeared for a mo- ment as if doubting the reality of what they saw ; but convinced, they united in one general exclama- tion of horror and surprize ! Our appearance at that moment, must indeed have been shocking in the extreme ; but two of our number possessing sufficient strength to stand erect, the remainder were only able to creep about upon their hands and knees — our faces, arms, hands, and other parts of our bodies, that had been exposed to the powerful rays of the sun, burnt nearly black ; and our clothes having been continually wet, our emaciated bodies were chafed and nearly covered with painful soars. We were by our kind deliverers conveyed on board the brig, where every thing was done that could be done to alleviate our miseries. Broths were made for us, but of which, as of water, we v/ere permitted only to partake sparingly, and to which we may imp'-u. the snlv/itiua of our liu; : fur had we been p^rmiticd tj eat ufj itiucl- a-' on- appetites craved, it must have proved fatal to us. By the kind assistance of my benefactors (for which may Heaven reward them,) by the time the brig reached her destined port, I had, by kind treat- ment, gained sufficient strength to enable me, like another prodigal son, to reach that long wished for home, which had been the scene of many happy momenta, but of which I had been unconscious, un- til I had unwisely deserted it, to experience trials and hardships of which none but those who have experienced similar, can have a true conception. — By my great sufferings, my health still remains impaired,and my constitution (which was previous- ^ '.'^SW^" -t palmer's narrative. 13 '>» i \y good,) so much broken, as to render it very pro- bable, that until the day of my death I shall remain a living monument of my past folly. True it is, as I have frequently heard it remark- ed, that dear-bought experience often proves a most valuable instructor, and that we are sometimes in- debted to adversity for our wisdom. I had heard much of foreign countries and had long felt a strong inclination to visit them ; and although I had not unfrequently read of, and listened with no incon- siderable interest, to the narratives of the surpris- ing adventures of sailors, as they recounted their many hair breadth escapes, and the great perils and privations to which they were daily exposed while navigating the deep ; yet it had but little ef- fect to deter me from an attempt to accomplish my views — to gratify a too common propensity to ad- venture abroad, even at the risk of my life, "to see the world !"— others, I argued, had been and re- turned in safety, and why not I ? With this en- couragement alone, I adventured — but, alas, too soon did I experience the difference between that peaceful and comfortable home, the habitation of endeared friends, the scene of every enjoyment that T , 1 lif^bly dpsire. to that of beins" tossed to uiut u> upon a I. i ' u.? ocean, and occa^^ioii- n \\\ iusu\\r,cc] (lam- dreary forecastle. MIU- sisting on the coarsest luud, and with none bat per- fect strangers, of almost every country, for my companions. But, what was all this to what I was afterwards doomed to suffer ? The sad tale has been told — the melancholy particulars have been truly and faithfully recorded in the preceding pages. Although while I remained on the wreck, my suf- ferings were so great as in one instance to deprive me of reason, yet, in my most rational moments, I could but contrast my own miserable situation with that of someof my young acquaintance on shore-- that while they were, in all probability, reposing in 14 palmer's narrative. security by the firesides of their friends, and bleat with and enjoying every necessary of life that their hearts could wish, I was enduring all the tortures which extreme hunger and parching thirst could be productive of; and to relieve which, was finally driven to the awful extremity of eating the flesh and drmking the blood of those who had been my ship companions ! My dear young friends, it is my sincere prayer that you may not follow my exam- ples, and unwisely attempt to gratify a similar pro- pensity " to see the world," but rather learn wis- dom by my folly ; take the advice of one who knows--who by his imprudence and too hasty con- clusions, has been doomed to drink deep, very deeo of the cup of adversity ! Never be so unwise as £ exchange a certainty for an uncertainty ; if you have conifortable homes, and possess the means of pro- curing even a humble living, be satisfied therewith, tor should you be otherwise inclined, you may have cause ever after.to regret it. As regards myself I can truly say with the poet, that ' " 'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam Be It ever so humble, there 's no place like home : ' A charm from the skies, seems to hallow us there VYhich seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home, home, swoct, aweet home There 's no place like home. ' An exile from hdme, splendor dazzles in vain Oh ! give me my lonely thatched cottage again : Ihe birds smgmg gaily, that come at my call. iumbled by adversity ; and as these are vicissitudes to which the wealth and honors of this world can form no barrier, we ousfht not to indulge ourselves in repining, in uneasiness, or despondency, be- cause we do not possess them to profusion. How little disposed should we be to find fault with and to murmur at our condition in life, how- ever humble it might be, were we to reflect for a moment how much more miserable thej might be ! I have seen the time when I would have been un- willing to have exchanged conditions with any one within the circle of my acquaintance ; and I have seen the time, and that very recently, when I would have gladly exchanged conditions with the poorest beggar in existence ; nay, would have given thou- sands, had I possessed them, for the privilege of sharing with him the humble fare bestowed on him •V* 1 1- 1 PALMER S NARRATIVE. 17 in charity. Mysterious, indeed, are the ways of Providence ; the same wheel which raises us to- day, on the smooth, unruffled ocean of prosperity, may, before the morrow, roll us in the stormy sea of adversity. The scenes of life are continually shifting, and mankind are ever subject to ills, per- plexities, and disappointments ; and we are too apt to find fault, and conclude that we are possess- ed of a greater share of worldly afflictions than our fellow-men, or more than our proportion in the scale of justice ; but on reflection, I am persuaded mankind are not so unequally provided for in this world as many imagine. " God is no respecter of persons," he favors one man no more than another, and his blessings are equally showered upon all his offspring. In all the changing scenes of life, we behold man ever in pursuit of happiness — it is his aim and object ; nay, the very desire of his heart to be hap- py ; and in hopes of being so, ere his days, even of this transitory life shall end, he toils and labors with an unceasing and unwearied hand — no obsta- cles that meet him in his path are too great to be overcome ; but, alas ! before it is attained, how often does life itself, with all its anxieties and cares, vanish forever. It is a great mistake to account those things necessary and essential to our happi- ness, that are superfluous. Let the man of a firm health not account himself happy only in the enjoy- ment of this good, but may the thought of suffering nothing among so many calamitous events to which he is subject, make him yet more content — let him enjoy himself, not only from the good circum- stances that are his lot, but from the evils too, which do not befall him. The restlessnesb and in- quietude peculiar to a great portion of mankind, through all the several stages of their existence are the sole immolate jf time. They are con- tinually looking forward lo a time, when they gjjaji be rich in the possessions of the world ; anj even o palmer's najrrative. 'I ■i m, who has the abundance of riches, " a full et and full store," the same anxieties, the samo easy spirit and restless mind, embitter the sweetH of his life, and waste his time and years. Let us remember that we are but sojourners here on earth — that we are fast hastening to our long homes, and let the benign anticipation of happiness hereafter, make us triumph over adversity, and in- struct us in the proper improvement of affliction?), that they may efficaciously work out for us a " far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." — Thus suitably impressed with the hopes of consum- mated happiness and fruition in the realms of peace, and with minds dilated above the annoying influ- ence of worldly troubles and adverse events, we can tranquilly withstand all the buffetting billows of time, and welcome the auspicious hour which transports us from these tenements of clay, to an " inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fad- eth not away." Success and disappointment, mirth and despon- dency, alternately accompany us through the jour- ney of time. One day we set forth on our road with vigor and animation, favored by an auspicious atmosphere and a serene sky, full of anticipation and elated with hope ; but ere night arrives, to lay our weary limbs to rest, some incident has blasted all our expectations — the morn which beamed forth its radiance and dispensed to us pleasure, is sup- planted by a sable night, which brings to us a sad reverse, of many pains, anxieties and sorrows. — Hence, it is not an abundance of riches that can secure to us that degree of happiness and tranquil- Uty of mind that all are anxious to experience — a good share of prudence is far more preferable ; as for the want of it, the young and inexperienced frequently and rashly launch their frail barks be- fore they are able to stem the adverse current of life, and are wrecked among the shoals and quick- sands of adversity. N hVl. palmer's narrative. 19 CLOSING REMARKS. > *r The foregoing concludess the interesting Narra- tive and Address of Palmeh, to which a friend begs liberty to subjoin some few remarks. As has been remarked at the commencement of the Narrative, the year 1836 will be long remembered as a pecul- iar one for the many unfortunate occurrences at sea that have attended it. Scarcely a week has passed, that some awful shipwreck, great loss of lives in consequence of vessels taking fire, &c. has not been announced to us. Since the commence- ment of the year, it is probable that not a less num- ber than one thousand persons, (men, women and children,) have become the victims of one or the other of these devouring elements, on, or in the vi- cinity of the American coast, attended with all the horrors, and in some instances, by the most aggra- vating circumstances that the human mind can con- ceive of. To maintain a commercial intercourse with for- eign nations, it is necessary, notwithstanding the perils to which they subject themselves, that there should be found some willing to adventure their lives ; and it is not surprising that there should be many of that useful class, who, accustomed from their youth to a seafaring life, are found willing to brave all dangers, and to subject themselves to al- most incredible hardships, for that support which they would find it diflicult to obtain for themselves and families on shore — but, that there should be so many of quite a different class, a class compos- 20 palmer's narrative. ed of some of our most active and promising young men, of educations that Would fit them ibr the most respectable stations, and produce them ample sup- port, found willing, merely to gratify a silly pro- pensity to see the world, to subject themselves to the dangers and perils of the sea, is indeed, aston- ishing. The fate of the unfortunate Palmer should afford such a lesson, which ought never to be for- gotten. He (Palmer) was, it appears, of respect- able parentage, a stranger to hardships, blessed with a competency, and with an education sufficient to qualify him for the performance of the duties of the profession in which he was about to engage ; but, alas, what a reverse of fortune was produced by a single act of imprudence. He has, indeed, painted his deplorable situation, while confined to the wreck, in deep colors, but we do not believe the picture too highly colored ; for what situation on earth is there in which man can be placed, so awful as that of being driven by hunger and thirst to drink the blood and eat the dead body of a fel- low being ! Such appears to have been the fate of this unfortunate young man — and which, we would again say, should serve as a beacon to deter others from an attempt to gratify similar propensities, which may, for aught they know, prove equally fa- tal. Whoever has perused the melancholy account of the late awful conflagration which occurred on board the steamboat Royal Tar, when forty-nine of her unfortunate passengers perished ; and the still more recent account of the loss of the ship Bristol, bound from Liverpool to New-York, (when no less number than sixty-seven of her crew and passengers found a watery grave,) must be satisfied of the imminent danger to which mariners, and oth- ers who adventure upon the deep waters, are ex- posed. " Shipwreck (as a late writer observes,) is always, even in its mildest form, a calamity which fills the mind with horror. But what is instant r- "i PALMER*9 NARRATIVE. 01 0t0 a A#- f "i death, compared to the situation of those wha are doomed to contend with hunger and thirst ? Be- hold the ship safely gliding along upon the smooth sea, every heart bounding with joy, at the prospect of their soon reaching the destined port, and once more embracing those friends from whom they have long been separated, when, all at once, a cloud arises — the sun withdraws its light — the tempest rolls on, accompanied with all the horrors of mid- night darkness — she drives headlong upon the rocks. Ah ! fatal moment. Where now shall they seek for refuge ? No kind friend is present to lend the aid sufficient to protect these unhappy suffer- ers ; but a small solitary boat, or fragment of the wreck, must float them, they know not where ; des- tined often, to satisfy the cravings of hunger and to prolong a lingering life, by casting lots for a vic- tim to be sacrificed to serve for food for the rest." That the picture of horror and despair here pre- sented to view, is not one of the imagination alone, the affecting narrative of the unfortunate Palmer affords a melancholy proof. Similar instances too frequently occur ; nor does the two, of which we have made mention, and of very recent occurrence, in some respects, fall but little short of it. The awful scene of distress that attended the loss of the steamboat Royal Tar, as related by the few who were miraculously preserved from the dread- ful conflagration, must still be fresh in the minds of my readers — the unfortunate passengers, com- prising men, women, and children, to escape from the devouring element, hanging to ropes and vari- ous parts of the burning vessel, until compelled by the approaching flames to loose their holds and to drop into the ocean, to rise no more ; and to en- hance still more the scene of horror, several unfor- tunate mothers, to put an immediate period to the sufferings of their tender infants, threw them over- board, and leaped after them to perish with them ! Nor were the scenes which attended the more re- i 22 palmer's narrative. cent loss of the ship Bristol, (almost within view of the harbor of New- York,) less distressing. The description given of the lamentable catastrophe by the few that escaped from the wreck, were in terms almost too shocking to describe ! Mothers callinff to their children, and husbands for their wives, and on the next wave they were buried in the deep !^ So sudden and unexpected was the disaster, that several of the passengers, (principally women and berSs^"'ten 'A^'^T '^^y "°"'^ ^^^^« their Jn«tin;i ?h liT^ '^^P' °" striking the shore, instantly bilged, filled, and all below were drown- ed-not a groan was heard to denote the catastro- phe, so awfully sudden was it. The ship, in a few hours went to pieces, and the ensuing morning presented a scene truly melancholy to behold-f sixty of the lifeless bodies of those who perished were driven on shore. Such are some of the dan! gers and such frequently the awful consequences of adventuring upon and exposing our lives to the boisterous ocean. On this melancholy subject, we think that we cannot present our readers with any thing more appropriate than a description of a wreck at sea. by an eniinent writer. He remarks : We one day descried some shapeless object drifting at a distance-it proved to be the mast of a ship that must have been completely wrecked • for there were the remains of handkerchiefs, b^ which some of the crew had fastened themselves to this spar to prevent their being washed off by the waves. 1 here was no trace by which the name of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had trfuflf'ffi^^''fT''y "^«"th«' ^'»«ters of shell-fish had fastened about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides— but, where, thought I, is the crew? Their struggle has long been^ve^-they have gone down amidst the roar of the tempest- their bones he whitening in the caverns of the deep-silence oblivion, like the waves, have closed over them, and no one can tell the story of their I f "nr t PALMER 3 NARRATIVE. 23 '1 * end ! What sighs have been wafted after that ship ! What prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of home ! How often has the beloved wife and affec- tionate mother pored over the daily news, to catch some casual intelligence of this rover of the deep ! How has expectation darkened into anxiety— anx- iety into dread— and dread into despair ! Alas ! not one memento shall ever return for love to cher- ish. All that shall ever be known, is, that she sail- ed from her port, " and was never heard of more." " The sight of the wreck as usual, gave rise to many dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the evening, when the weather, which had hitherto been fair, began to look wild and threat- ening, and gave indications of one of those sudden storms that will sometimes break in upon the se- renity of a summer voyage. As we sat around the dull light of a lamp, in the cabin, that made the gloom more ghastly, everyone had his tale of ship- wreck and disaster. I was particularly struck with a short one related by the captain. " As I was sailing," said he, " in a fine stout ship, across the banks of Newfoundland, one of the heavy fogs that prevail in those parts, rendered it impossible for me to see far ahead even in the day time ; but at night the weather was so thick that we could not distinguish any object at twice the length of our ship. I kept lights at the mast head and a constant watch forward to look out for fish- ing-smacks, which are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks. The wind was blowing a smacking breeze, and we were going at a great rate through the water. Suddenly the watch gave the alarm of " a sail ahead !" but it was scarcely uttered till we were upon her. She was a small schooner at an- chor with her broad side towards us. The crew were all asleep, and had neglected to hoist a light. We struck her just amid-ships. The force, the size, and weight of our vessel, bore her down be- 24 palmer's narhative. I low the waves ; we passed over her, and were hur- ried on our course. "As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, 1 Mad a ghmpse of two or three half naked wretches, rushing from the cabin ; they had just started from their cabins to be swallowed shriek- ing by the waves. I heard their drowning crv mingled with the wind. The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all farther hearing. I «hall never forget that cry ! It was some timi be- fore we could put the ship about, she was under such headway. We returned as nearly as we could guess to the place where the ship was anchored.— We cruised about for several hours in the dense log. We fired several guns, and listened if we might hear the hallo of any survivors ; but all was siJent--we never heard nor saw any thing of them liur- eath iked just iek- cry it to . I be- ider )uld 1— nse we vas lem *<*( /« ♦ W .