my lost, lost treasure, you have found your own way back,
And now I'll forget my troubles, and be friends again with Jack.

PERILS AND PRIVATIONS.

BY JAMES PAYN.

I.—THE WRECK OF THE "GROSVENOR."

On the 4th of August, "being Sunday, 1782," the Grosvenor, East Indiaman, homeward-bound, was scudding, under little canvas, before a northwest gale. She had left Madagascar to the northeast some days ago, and was supposed by her Captain (Captain Coxon) to be at least a hundred leagues from the nearest land. Before daylight John Hynes, a seaman, with one Lewis and others, were aloft striking the foretop-gallant-mast, when Hynes asked Lewis if he did not think certain breakers ahead indicated land. The latter answering in the affirmative, they hastened to inform the third mate, Mr. Beal, who had the watch. Mr. Beal "only laughed at them," but in a few minutes the Grosvenor's keel struck, and "as she beat very hard, every soul on board instantly ran on deck."

WRECK OF THE "GROSVENOR."

These souls, predoomed to destruction, were very many—nearly two hundred, including, alas! both women and children and sick. If the position of those who are well and strong in such circumstances is pitiable, what must be that of the weak? The Captain endeavored in vain to mitigate the universal panic; for though no water could be detected in the vessel by the pumps, it was well understood there was a hole in her; and since the wind was off the land, which could now be discerned a hundred yards away, it was feared she would be driven to sea, and founder. The gunner was ordered to fire signals of distress; but on going to the powder-room he found it full of water. The mainmast was cut away, then the foremast, but without easing the doomed ship, against which the waves beat with impatient fury, as though greedy for their prey.

To those who have only seen the summer sea at play upon our shores, it is difficult to picture the force with which in storm every wave strikes a vessel in this position. She shudders at every blow, and groans and shrieks like any living creature. To the ignorant and timid, who feel the hull quivering under them, it seems as if she were going to pieces at every stroke. "At all hazards," they say to themselves, "let us get out of this to land;" but when they look upon the boiling waves, that seethe as in some bottomless caldron between themselves and the wished-for shore, even the frail planks on which they stand seem by comparison security. Even when a boat has perhaps with infinite difficulty been lowered, and they see it thrown hither and thither like a ball beneath them, and only kept from instant destruction against the ship's side by boat-hooks, they shrink from such a means of escape, and leave it to bolder spirits. In the case of the Grosvenor, the yawl and jolly-boat, which had been hoisted out, were dashed to pieces as soon as they touched the water. An Italian and two seamen, however, swam to land with the deep-sea line, by help of which a stronger rope was conveyed ashore, and then a hawser.

By this time a great crowd of natives had collected on the beach, who helped to fasten the hawser to the rocks, and the other end of the rope being made fast to the capstan on deck, it was hauled tight. Communication was thus established between the ship and the land; a perilous mode of safety, however, that could only be used by the most agile seamen, of whom no less than fifteen out of twenty attempting to pursue it dropped into the sea, and were drowned before the eyes of their companions.

The people on the wreck now busied themselves in constructing a raft, the only means of escape that was apparently left them, and it was launched overboard, and guided to the ship's stern, so that the women and children might be dropped into it from the quarter gallery. But hardly had it reached the waves when it was torn asunder, "the great ropes that bound it together parting like pack-thread," and the men in charge of it perished. Picture to yourself, reader, how each of these successive events must have affected the survivors, who beheld them all, and felt them to be so many preludes to their own destruction. In despair they all huddled together on the poop awaiting death, while with a crash that made itself heard above the tempest, the great ship clove asunder.

And here, as we shall find often happens in these narratives of disaster, what would seem to have been their certain doom proved for a time their preservation; for the wind suddenly veered round, and blowing directly to the land, carried the starboard quarter on which they stood into shallow water, and the whole company reached the shore.

By this time the night was falling; but the natives, who had retired with the setting sun, had left the embers of a fire, by which means three others were lighted, and some hogs and poultry being driven ashore, the poor creatures made a good repast—which was their last one. They soon learned from their companions on shore that it was from no motives of humanity that the inhabitants had offered them assistance, nor indeed, beyond fastening the hawser, had they given any help, but occupied themselves in seizing whatever came to land, especially anything in the shape of iron.

Among most savage nations iron holds the place which gold fills among those more civilized, and a few horse-shoes or rusty nails are valued more highly by them than pearls or diamonds. To any one who has seen the weapons or instruments in use among the South-sea Islanders, and the curious devices by which horn and bone and wood are made to supply the place of the coveted metal, this will not appear strange; and as the desire for gold too often hardens the heart among our own people, so that for iron makes that of the savage as the nether millstone, or as iron itself.

With the next morning a host of natives thronged the beach, to the great terror of the castaways, who had no weapons of any kind. The former took not the slightest notice of the new arrivals, but, knowing that they could turn their attention to them at any time, busied themselves exclusively with plunder. Next to positive ill-treatment, the poor Grosvenor people felt that nothing could augur worse for them than this total indifference to their wretched condition.

A cask of beef, a barrel of flour, and a puncheon of rum they managed to secure for themselves, and with a couple of sails they contrived two tents for the ladies and children. This was all the provision they had, though they were a hundred and thirty-five in number, and even the puncheon of rum the Captain gave orders to be staved, "lest the natives should become dangerous by getting intoxicated."

Then he called the people together, and in a pathetic speech informed them that to the best of his belief they were on the coast of Caffraria, and that it might be possible in sixteen or seventeen days to reach on foot some of the Dutch settlements. As the ship was wrecked, he informed them that his authority was at an end, but if it was their wish he would resume it, as without discipline the difficulties of travel would be greatly increased. Then they all answered that "he should still be their Captain, by all means."

One man named O'Brien had a swelled knee, and elected to remain with the natives, whom he thought he might conciliate by making them little trinkets out of the lead and pewter cast ashore, and having recovered from his ailment, and learned their language, might better be able to get away. Him therefore they left (little knowing the tender mercies of those to whom he so pitifully intrusted himself), "but Mr. Logie, the chief mate, being ill, was