LAST SIGHT OF THE RUNAWAYS.

is next to a miracle if so.

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And yet what lesson do they teach me? If these nine men can undertake such a voyage, and un

der such wretched circumstances, with so little preparation, why should not I, having far better means, be able to accomplish mine? For themselves, I added, 'God be with them!' I know not how just or unjust their cause may be, but I do know that human life is now at stake, and my sympathy goes with them.'

Before I pass from this strange occurrence, it will be better to give the sequel of their history, so far as yet known, through three of the wretched crew who reached Indian Harbor, Labrador. The following particulars I gleaned at St. John's, Newfoundland, on my way home in the fall of 1862.

It seems that a Captain Nathan Norman, who does business in Labrador, and is also a magistrate, encountered the survivors of this boat's crew, and, hearing their tale, demanded from them a statement in writing; whereupon one of them, Sullivan by name, drew up an account, the original of which is in my possession. It was given to me by Robert Winton, Esq., editor and proprietor of the St. John's Daily News, through C. O. Leach, Esq., United

States consul at that place. The following is a verbatim copy of Sullivan's written statement, made in the fall of 1861:

"My name is John F. Sullivan. I left my home in South Hadley Falls, Mass., about the 1st of March, 1860, for Boston. I remained in Boston until the 20th of the same month. I applied at different offices for a chance to ship; being a stranger in the place, and a green hand, I found it very difficult to get a berth to suit me. At last I got a little discouraged, and that day signed my name at No. 172 Commercial street, Boston, and left for New Bedford, Mass. Next morning I shipped to go aboard of the ship Daniel Webster, then laying at New Bedford, but to sail the same day on a whaling cruise to Davis's Straits, to be gone 18 months.

"I left New Bedford in the Daniel Webster on the 21st of March, 1860. There were forty of us in the crew, all told. We had very rough weather for many days after leaving, which caused many of us to be sea-sick; I suffered from it about three weeks; after that time I began to recruit. There was nothing happened of any consequence worth mentioning until we passed Cape Farewell, about the last of May. After that we had quite a hard time, working the ship through the ice; occasionally, however, we made out to get her through, and came to anchor, July 6, 1860.

"We spoke many vessels going in. I will name some of them: the Hannibal, of New London; the Black Eagle and Antelope, of New Bedford; the Ansell Gibbs, of Fairhaven; the Pioneer, of New London. These vessels were anchored very close to one another in the harbor; the crews were at liberty sometimes to pay visits to each other; each one would tell how he was treated; several complained of very bad treatment, especially the crew of the Ansell Gibbs; they were planning some way of running away for a long time, but they found no opportunity till the 4th of August.

"My shipmate, whose name was Warren Dutton, was aboard that day, and heard a little of the conversation, and he joined in with them, and said he would go, and perhaps one or two more of his crew. He immediately came aboard and informed me; and he pictured every thing out so nice, that I finally consented to go with him. We had no great reason for leaving our vessel; we could not complain of very bad treatment aboard; all we could complain of was that we were very badly fitted out for such a cold climate; and, after we arrived there, heaving of so many men that died there the last winter of scurvy, we were afraid to remain there, for fear that we might get it. We thought by running away, also, we would be all right; but we were sadly mistaken.

"After it was agreed upon to leave, each one was busy making preparations for a start. I, with my shipmate, packed what few things we thought would be necessary into a traveling-bag which belonged to me; we then crept into the hold, and filled a small bag and a pair of drawers with hard bread, and waited for an opportunity to hide it on deck, unknown to the watch. After we succeeded in that, we made a signal to the other crew that we were ready. It being boats' crew watches aboard the Ansell Gibbs, they every one of them left; they found no difficulty in lowering away the boat, which after they did so they lowered themselves easily into her, and soon paddled under our bows; we then dropped our traps into her, and, taking with us two guns and a little ammunition, got into her, and soon pulled around a small point out of sight of the vessels. The names of the crew that left the Ansell Gibbs are as follows: John Giles, boat-steerer, John Martin, Hiram J. Davis, Williard Hawkins, Thomas Colwell, Joseph Fisher, and Samuel J. Fisher. "At 11 o'clock at night, on the 4th of August, we left the vessels in Cumberland

STARVATION AND CANNIBALISM.

95

Straits, latitude 65° 59', about five miles from Penny's Harbor. Although it being a little foggy, with a fair wind we stood across the Straits. When about half way across we dumped overboard a tub of towline to lighten the boat some. We had nothing but a small boat-compass to guide us; we had no opportunity of getting a chart before we left, and not much of any thing else.

"We made the other side of the Straits by morning; then, by taking the spyglass, we thought we could perceive a sail in chase of us, but we soon lost sight of her. The other crew were depending mostly on us for bread, as my shipmate informed them we had a better chance to get it out of the hold; their bread lay close to the cabin; so, what bread they had, with ours, would not exceed more than twenty pounds. We all saw that the bread would not last long, so each one desired to be put on allowance of one biscuit a day to each man. We hoped, by the time that was gone, to reach some place where we would find help. We made a very good run the first three days, sleeping at night in the boat; on the fourth day out we fell in with the barque George Henry, Captain Budington, of New London. He asked us aboard; the boat-steerer acted as spokesman. The captain told us we were very foolish to leave the vessels to undertake so long a trip. I believe he would have taken us all if we wished to stay; but as we had left a whaler, we did not like to go on board another, as he was also going to remain there through the winter; so we were determined to push along, as we had been foolish enough to start in the first place. However, before we left, he gave us a small bag of bread, a piece of salt pork, and some ammunition; also a chart. We then bade him good-by, and set off again. That night we made a 'lee,' found some moss, and made a fire; before we ran in we shot a small duck, which made a good stew for all hands. Two days after this we shot a white bear; he was in the water when we shot him, and there being a heavy sea on at the time, we could get no more than his hind quarters in; them we skinned—the rest we could not save. That night we managed between us to cook it, as we were divided into watches, two in each watch; by doing so, we could watch the boat and keep her with the tide. We kept on in this way, always tracking the shore, and at night going ashore to lay on the rocks, with our boat's sail over us for shelter.

"We had very rough weather in crossing the Straits. We were on Resolution Island four days, waiting for a fair wind; we got it at last, but so strong that it came very near swamping our little boat many times through the night. It kept two of us bailing water out all the time, and we were glad to reach the land, after being in the boat thirty hours, wet to the skin. What bear's meat and bread we had was most gone by this time; there was nothing left but a few crumbs in the bottom of the bag. There was nine parts made of the crumbs; then they were caked off, each man taking his share.

"On the 16th of August we made Cape Chidleigh; on the 20th we divided the last crumbs; after that we picked up what we could find to eat. We found a few berries and mushrooms; we suffered very much from the cold, very seldom having a dry rag upon us.

"We continued on in this condition until the 3d of September, when, to add to our misfortune, Williard Hawkins and Hiram J. Davis (who we called 'the doctor') ran away from us that night, and took with them every thing that was of any use to us; they even took the boat's compass, and left us in a miserable condition, with our boat broadside on the beach. It being their watch, they made out to get off. We thought it was useless to make chase after them, so we let them go. It then commenced to rain, and there was a heavy sea rolling in, and, weak as we were, we found some difficulty in shoving the boat off. However, after a hard tug, we suc

ceeded, and then palled out some ways; we then up sail; it was not up long before it blew so strong that it carried away the mast. We then ran in under a jib, and made a lee. About half an hour after we landed my shipmate died of starvation. The evening he died, Samuel Fisher proposed to eat him; he took his knife, and cut a piece off the thigh, and held it over the fire until it was cooked. Then, next morning, each one followed his example; after that the meat was taken off the bones, and each man took a share. We stopped here three days. We then made a start; but the wind being ahead, we were obliged to put back. Here we stopped two more days. During that time the bones were broken up small, and boiled in a pot or kettle we had; also the skull was broken open, the brains taken out, and cooked. We then got a fair wind, but as we got around a point, we had the wind very fresh off shore; we could hardly manage the boat; at last we drove on to an island some ways out to sea; we got the boat under the lee of it; but the same night we had a large hole stove into her. Being unable to haul her up, we were obliged to remain here eight days: it was on this island they tried to murder me.

"The third day we stopped here, I was out as usual picking berries, or any thing I could find to eat. Coming in, I chanced to pick up a mushroom. I brought it in with me; also an armful of wood to keep. While kneeling down to cook the mushroom, I received a heavy blow of a club from Joseph Fisher, and before I could get on my feet I got three more blows. I then managed to get to my feet, when Samuel Fisher got hold of my right arm; then Joseph Fisher struck me three more blows on the arm. I somehow got away from them, and, being half crazy, I did not know what to do. They made for me again; I kept begging of them, for God's sake, to spare my life, but they would not listen to my cries. They said they wanted some meat, and were bound to kill me. I had nothing I could defend myself with but a small knife; this I held in my hand until they approached me. Samuel Fisher was the first to come toward me; he had a large dirk-knife in his hand; his cousin was coming from another direction with a club and a stone. Samuel came on and grasped me by the shoulder, and had his knife raised to stab me. I then raised my knife, and stabbed him in the throat; he immediately fell, and I then made a step for Joe; he dropped his club, and went up to where the rest was. I then stooped down to see if Samuel was dead; he was still alive. I did not know what to do. At this time I began to cry; after a little while the rest told me to come up; they would see there was nothing more done to me. I received four deep cuts on the head; one of the fellows dressed them for me, and washed the blood off my face. Next day Samuel Fisher died; his cousin was the first one to cut him up; his body was used up the same as my unfortunate shipmate's.

"After a while we managed to repair the boat, and left this island. We ran in where we thought was main land, but it proved to be an island; here we left the boat, and proceeded on foot, walking about one mile a day. At last we reached the other side of the island in four days; then put back again to the boat. It took us four days to get back again. When we got, there, we found the boat was stove very bad since we left her. We tried to get around the island in her, but she sunk when we got into her; we then left her, and went back again to the other side of the island, to remain there until we would die or be picked up. We ate our boots, belts, and sheaths, and a number of bearskin and sealskin articles we had with us. To add to our misery, it commenced to rain, and kept up for three days; it then began to snow. In this miserable condition, we were picked up by a boat's crew of Esquimaux on the 29th of September, and brought to Okoke on the 3d of October. The missionaries did all that lay in their power to help us along, and provided us with food and clothing, then sent us on to Nain, where we met 'the doctor,' who was

ARRIVE AT CORNELIUS GRINNELL BAY.

97 picked up three days before we were. He reported that his companion died, and told many false stories after he was picked up.

"The missionaries of Nain helped us on to Hopedale; from there we were sent on to Kibokok, where two of us remained through the winter. One stopped with a planter, named John Lane, between Nain and Hopedale; the doctor stopped with John Walker until March, when he left for Indian Harbor; the remaining two, Joseph Fisher and Thomas Colwell, also stopped with planters around Indian Harbor. Mr. Bell, the agent at Kibokok, kept two of us until we could find an opportunity of leaving the coast. We left his place about the 10th of July, and came to Macovic, waiting a chance to get off.

'Captain Duntan has been kind enough to give me a passage; my companion was taken by Captain Hamilton, of the Wild Rover. We have had a very pleasant passage so far, and I hope it will continue so.

"Sir, I hope you may make it out; it is very poor writing, and was written in haste. John F. Sullivan."

In addition to the above, Mr. Leach kindly furnished me with the following information in a letter dated Feb. 25th, 1863:

"Mr. Kenneth M'Lea, Jr., merchant of Newfoundland, informs me that he has had letters from the missionary settlements on the coast of Labrador, in which they say these men conducted themselves 'shamefully.' Instead of feeling grateful for the hospitality they received, they demanded to be supported with the privilege of doing as they pleased. I understand one of them still remained at Labrador. No doubt the rest have shipped under assumed names, feeling ashamed to return to their native country."

Soon after the boat, with its desperate crew, had left us, we were passing one of the channels leading to the long-sought bay. This bay is a very fine sheet of water, and is protected by "Sarah's" Island at the entrance. Its length is about fifty miles, and its width six miles. On entering it by the south channel we were becalmed, and the boats were set to work towing us in; but, though we were up all night, next morning saw us still at some ten miles' distance from our harbor. At this time a perfect flotilla of boats were discovered approaching us. They were six whaleboats, fully manned, five belonging to a ship called the Black Eagle, Captain Allen, and one to the Rescue. As soon as they arrived, quietly greeting us, they wheeled in line ahead of our own boats, and aided in towing us in. An interesting scene it was before and around us: eight boats in line, pulling the ship onward, with brawny arms at the oars, and merry voices pouring forth the sailor's songs as measured and uniform strokes gave even time to the movement; the still waters of the deep bay, the perpendicular rocks by our side, and the craggy mountains

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