Sufferings of Mission Party

Twenty Days Of Terror

Sufferings of Mission Party In An Open Boat

Kindly contributed by Mr. CARL R.

HEINE, of Jaluit, Marshall Islands.

IN Mr. Ramsden’s review of “Adventur ing in Coral Seas” ( P.I.M. of Dec.), a book by Mr. Ellis, there is an interest ing extract referring to Mr. Walkup, who w r as for many years a missionary of the American Board in the Northern Gilbert Islands.

While the reference to Mr. Walkup is not at all unkindly, there is an error that might be corrected. It is alleged that he w T as an ex-pugilist, “at one time an in teresting figure in the San Francisco prize ring.” I was intimately acquainted with Mr. Walkup for a long term of years, and during that time learned something of his early life, but never heard any mention of the prize ring.

But it must be admitted that his per sonal appearance would not belie that apocryphal story, and several others like it. Possibly it was that deceptive appear ance that gave rise to such stories.

Some details concerning the capsize of Mr. Walkup’s schooner, the Hiram Bing ham 11., with subsequent events, may be ot interest.

Early in the morning, a couple of days after leaving Banaba for Butaritari, the wind being light and baffling, Mr Walkup went below to overhaul the motor (the vessel had auxiliary power), prior to starting it. While thus engaged, the boy at the wheel warned Mr. Walkup that a squall was approaching. Mr. Walkup instructed the boy to watch his steering, and keep the vessel close to the wind.

A little later the boy called out once more, telling Mr. Walkup that the squall was almost upon them. At that, Mr.

Walkup poked his head up out of the companion-way, and realising that there would be a bit of a blow, grabbed his oilskin and came on deck. As he did so. the squall struck, and the vessel heeled over at a sharp angle as Mr.

Walkup called out to the helmsman to luff up and shake the wind out of the sails.

But the vessel refused to answer the helm, and heeled over still further. Mr.

Walkup then ran aft to slack off the main sheet, but couldn’t do so, it being jammed with boxes and dunnage. He looked hastily for a knife or hatchet with which to cut the sheet, but none was handy. Then, in a flash, over the vessel went, and all on board were thrown into the seething water.

In less than 30 minutes the squall had blown itself out, the sun shone brightly, and the sea became smooth once more.

The vessel lay on its side with sail flat on the water, and half the hull partly exposed, to which all hands desperafely clung.

After a time the dinghy, which had been fastened to that side of the deck which was below water, worked loose and floated up, and with it fortunately

came the two oars. After baling it out, all hands, nine all told, got into it, load ing it down almost to the gunwale. Four or five coconuts floated up, and a tin of dried apples, which were carefully collected.

An effort was made to dive into the boat to obtain other provisions, but the attempt was soon given up on account of escaping gasoline smarting the eyes of the divers. A small clothes chest be longing to a young girl, who was one of the passengers, then came to the surface.

In it was a pair of small scissors, with whicbLthey tried to cut a piece of canvas from one of the sails, but clumsy fingers let it slip, and down it went.

As nothing could be gained by staying by the vessel, they set out for Butaritari, over 100 miles distant, pulling desper ately night and day, turn and turn about, until all were exhausted. When they could pull no longer, an oar was lashed to the forward thwart, to act as a mast.

At the top of it, a cross-piece of wood was secured to which was fastened the loin cloth of one of the boys to act as a sail. Such a tiny sail could give the heavy-laden boat but little speed, but it was far better than merely drifting, and

it inspired a little hope,—the hope that with fine weather and light S.E. winds, although they failed to make Butaritari, they might possibly make one of the Marshall Islands.

So on they went at the mercy of the wind and waves. When it rained, th°y caught a little drinking water in Mr.

Walkup’s oilskin, and sometimes they were able to conserve a small quantity, sufficient for a day or two if used spar ingly, in the tin that had contained the dried apples. When the wind freshened

up and raised a bit of sea, the baling was continuous; and when the boat be ban to'fill, as it sometimes did, all save the little girl jumped into the sea, and held on to the sides of the boat while she was being baled out. Sharks were seen occasionalfy circling around at such times, and it is a wonder that none was attacked.

Oft-times parched with thirst, under a brazen sky, they wearily scanned the vacant horizon for some sign of land, while they longed for the cool of the evening. On rainy nights all crouched together in the boat, shivering with cold, as they hopefully, fearfully awaited the dawn of another day—a time that ap peared infinitely prolonged.

So the days and nights passed, became weeks. Still they drifted on and on. worn-out, weary and dying, but never.

neglecting morning and evening worship of Almighty God, now indeed their only hope and refuge.

On the twentieth day it was apparent to all that the end was near, unless land was reached speedily. That night, after evening worship, while some were fitfully dozing, one of the boys, peering into the darkness ahead, fancied he saw some thing glimmering now and again. He waited a little to make sure before arous ing the others.

Soon there could be no doubt about it, and all were awakened by the joyful cry, “A light! I see a light ahead!”

When the day dawned, there was the land, Ebon, about three or four miles distant on the weather bow. But alas, instead of drawing nearer the land, it soon became evident that the boat was slowly drifting on past it, on account of the unfavourable breeze. They were too weak to pull at the oars, and with the tiny make-shift sail it was impossible to beat to windward.

Fortunately, the little sail was sighted by the natives in two canoes, out trolling foi bonito. It having an odd appearance, they decided to investigate, so slacked oft sheet and headed for the strange visi

tant. Arriving alongside the boat, they were informed of the disaster, and were instructed by Mr. Walkup what to do.

One of the canoes took the boat in tow, and the other went on ahead to inform a friend of Mr. Walkup, residing on the island, to expect him shortly. But what followed was not according to plan.

Instead of towing the boat to the place desired, it was towed to an inlet near the passage, where the natives in the towing canoe resided. There Mr. Walkup was handed over to the tender mercies of an old trader, with absolutely no knowledge of how to care for the sick. Mr. Walkup’s comrades in distress were temporarily cared for by Ebon natives, who know what to do for people in their condition far better than the white man referred to. He gave Mr. Walkup. for his first meal after that starvation journey, a break fast of strong coffee, toddy bread, and boiled dinner a canned compound of meat and vegetables!

A little later the one whom Mr. Walk up expected to meet arrived on the scene, and removed Mr. Walkup and his com panions in distress to his home, where all received suitable care and attention.

But, so far as Mr. Walkup was concerned, the harm had already been done. That first meal was responsible for his death.

It brought on acute gastritis, from which he passed away three days later. Without that meal, in all probability he would have lived, for upon his arrival at Ebon he was stronger than most of those with him, being able to hobble on shore with some assistance, while most of the others had to be carried.

You may ask how do I come to know all this? I got it from Mr. Walkup’s friend and those who were with him.

Mr. Walkup was able to converse quite lucidlv on the day of his arrival, but the following day his mind began to wander.

My account is made up from what was learned from him, and from those who suffered with him.