Charles Eady --- do. --- Died in the boat, Aug. 9
Nicholas Cobb --- do.
John Diggle --- do. --- Died in the boat, Aug. 6
Ian McLean --- do. --- do., Aug. 3
James Hudson --- do. --- Went mad and leapt overboard, Aug. 6
Timothy Sprake --- do.
Wm. Tenby --- do. --- Died mad of drinking sea water, Aug. 5
James Hawk --- do. --- Died in the boat
Matt. Appleby --- do.
Jimbo --- Steward --- A blackamoor great of body and heart
Juan Perez --- A rogue --- Shot and killed by me in the boat, July 31
Adam Penfeather --- Captain --- Who, God aiding, shall do all that is possible for the preservation of these men. To the which end I have had collected and carefully examined everything that may be of use, and here set the good against the evil, thus:
Perils to be expected --- Blessings to our gratitude
Storm and tempest --- A stout boat and able mariners
Dangers of Mutiny --- The arms all stowed abaft and six resolute men
Rage of foes --- 15 firelocks, 12 pistols with powder, and ball, 14 swords, 7 axes, 25 sheath knives.
Hunger --- 2 casks salt beef, 1 of pork with 3 bags ship's biscuits.
Thirst --- 4 small kegs of water. (To be strictly rationed forthwith.)
Sickness --- 1 medicine chest small and very inadequate.
Now though Adam is careful to set down much concerning winds and currents, squalls, strange fish, baffling airs and maddening calms, with mention of their 'torment of sunshine' despite their awning, there is about it a certain monotony might weary the reader. So, passing this record of sufferings becoming ever more acute, we come to this—in a writing that begins to show much less neat and regular.
July 28
Still no breath of wind and the sun now a plague, his beams, reflecting from glassy ocean, a blinding torment. Most of the men deject and some mutinous again by reason of the thirst that affects us all, cry out upon me very bitterly, demanding or begging a sup of water to appease them. And of those crying loudest are Juan Perez, Tom Rendal and Robt. Small. These so violent against me, I show them the pistol I must keep ever by me to protect this precious water that is now our very life, yet such pitiful little of it remaining that, in my heart, I know we must all perish except we sight land or are blessed with rain. At mess time great pity is it to see how all eyes glare at the water Sir G. D'Arcy doles out from our last small keg, a quarter pannikin each man and this no more than mere swallow can scarce moisten our parched tongues. Some there are who gulp this little at once and groan for more, and others who sip and sip till it be gone,—whereby came tragedy on this wise, viz.: Tom Rendal having swallowed his ration, sees Robt. Small sipping thus, snatches the pannikin and spills all is left to Robt. of this most precious water, whereon Robt. draws knife and stabs Tom desperately who, none the less, cuts Robt. into the throat whereof he instantly died and very bloodily. I did what might be for Tom Rendal, and thereafter said a prayer and hove Robt. Small overboard. And all of us mighty downcast.
July 29
This forenoon died Thomas Rendal of his wound so, after prayer for his soul, committed his body to the sea. Our water nearly gone, so that I told the crew our portion must now be reduced by a half that we may perchance live longer to hope for land or sight of some ship. The sea a flat calm and still no wind, and the soft lapping of water against the boat but an aggravation to our torment that increases on us with every hour, and suffering dreadfully manifest in every face. And, in this long agony of dying, strange it is to see how differently men do show from that expected of them. Sir G. D'Arcy uncomplaining, oft now sinks in stupor. Sir Benj. now prays with fervour, cursing only by habit and then feebly. Ned sings or trieth and, finding this vain, weeps in his hand. John Fenn sits long hours quite mumchance, yet when he speaks his words are cheery. Martin Frant is forever looking for the ship that never comes, and twice in the night had cried 'twixt sleep and wake: Sail ho! and to our bitter disappointment. Little Smidge lies at my feet and as oft as I touch or speak him, smiles so that I could weep for the young, brave soul of him. The other poor men snarl and sigh and moan, sleeping and awake, and many now cry out on me for their murderer that I will not let them drink, and I sit meekly dumb, since strength and life are failing me, only I keep faithful watch on the water, all that is left, that none steal it that yet may prove our salvation.
Aug. 5
About noon Wm. Tenby, against all advice, drank greatly of sea-water and towards evening was seized of a madness and jumped to death or any might prevent.
Aug. 6
This morning at dawn came a breeze to cheer and refresh us, yet later died away and we the more woeful. Towards evening John Diggle cried with great voice dreadful to hear, and within that hour was dead. Also on this grievous day, because of cruel sun James Hudson took a fit and leapt overboard.
Aug. 8
Calling the roll this morning Martin reports a man missing, which proved to be James Clark, who we suppose stole himself overboard to die soon rather than by this slow agony of thirst.
Aug. 9
To-morrow, except it be God His will to send us a ship, I suppose we must die all. Our water now so minished there is scarce a gill for each man. No wind and this sun a fiery torment. This noon Charles Eady is dead.... A day of agony wherein Death creepeth very near.... This night, waking from troublous dozing, I hear customary sounds of anguish with delirious ravings. And, thinks I, better to have drowned with the brave ship than this slow agony of dying. Strove to pray, yet could not, my mind being in strange daze and dazzle of wild thoughts. I now beheld a moving shape in the darkness, dull gleam of steel, a hand outreached fumbling where lay our few remaining sips of water. So reaching my pistol whence it lay, I leaned forward and saw this rogue thief was Perez and shot him into the face that he sank and lay asprawl at my feet and none heeding. Then fell I again to my daze and dazzle, nor roused till Ned shook me and Smidge cried. Then I saw Perez slain and his blasted head beside the water keg.
Aug. 11
Morning.
I think many lie dead and all nigh thereto, for none able to stir save only myself. And this do mind me how Perks said that men little and small are most vital. Night cometh and death ....... here is the end of all suffering ....... think Sir G. ....... dead at my feet ....... brave little Smidge all dead now ....... they lie still ....... is blessed relief ....... long pain soon I too ....... done my uttermost best. So ....... this last hour ....... Antonia, my beloved, and only ....... Pray God ....... spared her like suffering ....... bring her to joy happiness and me through death to His abiding Glory. Amen.
Here ends Adam's last entry aboard the boat, written in failing hand very hard to decipher and with words omitted.
CHAPTER XXVI
HOW ADAM LED THEM UP OUT OF SLAVERY
The Santa Barbara galleasse, urged by her many groaning slaves, was making for the rich and populous city of St. Juan de Leon; upon her gilded poop, beneath silken awning and surrounded by his officers and gentlemen, sat Don Esteban Peralta, Captain General of the Coast and Governor of Panama. Tugging at one of the great starboard oars, shackled hand and foot, his lean body scarred by the whip, blackened by fierce suns, agleam with sweat, ridged and knotted with the thews of constant labour, Adam Penfeather swayed and swung in time with the stroke; back and forth, to and fro, with no respite, eyes shut against the sun, mouth agape for air, he rose and fell to the never ceasing swing of the long, heavy oar.