“When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them. I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water.”

The boat, which seemed to our view like a messenger of mercy, approached within hail, when, with due precaution, it halted, and to our delightful surprise a voice in the English language demanded to know who we were, and what was our business. We immediately declared our doleful story, when the party landed without farther ceremony, and told us that we had come among a Christian people. The meeting was most affecting on either side; it was with difficulty that our people, in the ecstasy of rescue, could refrain from falling down at the feet of their deliverers; and the strangers, as they surveyed our emaciated and wretched company, were quite unable to suppress their tears. Our first appeal to them was for water, and they communicated the joyful intelligence to us, that there was an excellent fountain on the other side, where our wants would be abundantly supplied. I immediately embarked, in company with the ladies, and by three successive trips, the whole of our people were safely landed on the other side, where we were all received with unbounded affection and hospitality. We instantly repaired, with incontrollable avidity, to the fountain, where we sought to satiate our maddening thirst by deep and frequent draughts, until we had gorged ourselves with the exquisite supply, and felt life reflow in cooler currents through our parched and fevered frames. A princely meal was also provided for us on the instant, consisting of a whole sheep, and part of a wild buck, which had been shot on the farm in the morning; but our hearts were too full to possess a keen appetite, and we could only taste of the bounteous provision amid many tears, when we contrasted the scantiness and misery of our morning repast with our present profusion, and the hearts of many of us rose in silent gratitude to “God, who had done so great things for us, whereof we were glad.”

We found that the settlement which we had reached belonged to a warm-hearted Dutch farmer, named Mynheer Low, of whose unbounded generosity and kindness it is impossible for me to speak in excessive terms. His family consisted of an amiable wife and daughter, who shared in all his own benevolence, and loaded us with attentions, which can never be forgotten, and it would be impossible to repay.

The Englishman, who had accompanied our host in the boat which ferried us over the river, and who acted as our interpreter during our stay, was a sailor belonging to a whale and seal fishing company. He had been left by his employers, in company with another person, to reside during the fishing season, on a neighbouring island, in order to preserve the fishing grounds, which were rented from the colonial government. He and his partner were obliged to visit the settlement very frequently for supplies of water, which they required to keep, alike for their own use, and in case of their schooner running short during her voyage. I learned from this person that the coast to the north of Oliphant River is entirely destitute of water, and without inhabitants; and I mention this in case any persons who peruse this narrative should be driven on this coast, that they may know where to obtain succour. Mr. Low’s farm is situated on the south bank of the Oliphant River, about four miles from the sea, and two hundred miles from the Cape of Good Hope.

Soon after our arrival I communicated with Mr. Low as to the necessary provision for our future accommodation. It was impossible with his limited resources, that he could lodge and sustain twenty-six persons for many days; and it was plain from the distressing condition of our people, that they would require several days of careful nursing and rest, before they could bear removal by land journey.

Having learned that an English gentleman kept a store at Donkin’s Bay, twenty-four miles distant, I immediately despatched a messenger to solicit his assistance. This person, whose name was Mr. R. Fryer, proved to us to be indeed “a brother born for adversity.” No language can adequately express his unremitting kindness and unceasing exertions for our welfare, and for which he would never listen to any proposals of remuneration whatever. He came down on horseback immediately on receiving notice of our condition, and despatched a message to the nearest field cornet, to make provision for our succour. On his arrival he proposed to take the ladies at once to his house, they being the only parties fit to be removed. It may seem strange that the most delicate members of our company should have borne the hardships of our situation with greater hardihood than men of robust frame; and yet it was remarkable throughout the whole of our afflictions, that the ladies and even the children bore the sufferings with the greatest magnanimity, and discovered a spirit of patient endurance which might have put to shame the hardiest men. It is thus that God sometimes, as of old, “out of weakness maketh strong,” and causeth “things that are not to be as though they were, that no flesh should glory in his presence.”

In accordance with this arrangement, our ladies set off in a waggon for Mr. Fryer’s house, under charge of our host’s daughter, on the evening after our arrival at Oliphant River; and in twenty-four hours, the waggon returned loaded with provisions, luxuries and medicines. Mr. Fryer also sent four sheep on the same day, and gave his shepherd orders to supply us with as many as we wanted; and yet these things were but a tithe of the kindness which we received at the hands of this good Samaritan.

We were at this time also under great obligations to Mr. Francis J. Troutar, who had come down the river at this time, along with his mother-in-law and a few servants, to fish. The good old lady took our three children to her hut, supplied them with frocks and underclothing, and treated them with the solicitude and kindness of a mother, so as to merit our warmest gratitude.

In the course of a few days, the effects of our long fasting and exposure and fatigues began to appear, and to make shocking havoc on the persons of our people, in loathsome bloaches on the face, and excessive swelling of the arms and legs. The steward was particularly in a pitiable condition with his face, and one of the cabin passengers was confined to his couch. One of his legs burst, and his hand was obliged to be laid open by a deep incision of a razor, so that I was afraid at one time, that he would not rally. In the course, however, of four or five days, through the unremitting nursing of the Dutchman’s family, and by the kind providence of God, we all began to amend. Our recovery soon revealed itself in an incessant craving for food; for some days it was almost impossible to satisfy our intense appetite, and we were in danger of creating a famine in the Dutchman’s settlement, as a sheep was killed every day for our use, and we consumed great quantities of wheat, which we prepared for boiling by pounding it in a mortar, and sometimes made into bread after grinding it in a hand-mill.

On the 13th January I received a letter from Mr. Rennyfield, civil commissioner, Clan William, to meet him at Mr. Fryer’s on the following day, in company with Mr. Troutar. We accordingly set off next morning, at five o’clock, and as I was but an indifferent horseman, I was greatly exhausted by the ride. The country in this quarter is chiefly sandy, and blows with the wind like dust, but it is thickly studded with sundry kinds of shrubs and bushes, which are valuable for the feeding of cattle and sheep. On reaching my destination, I was most hospitably received by Mr. Fryer, and his lady, and was happy to find my lady passengers in good health and spirits. The civil commissioner made full arrangements with me for our journey to Cape Town. I received a letter to produce to each field cornet on the route, containing instructions to provide us with waggons, and to supply us with every necessary on the road. Mr. Troutar, who was the field cornet of the district, was to provide the waggons and to be our conductor through the first stage; and our departure was arranged for the 19th of January, by which time it was hoped that our invalids would be so far recovered as to bear the journey.

On the day appointed we prepared for our departure amidst much bustle and confusion. The yoking of fourteen or sixteen oxen in a waggon is like getting an East India trader under weigh, and the chattering of the Hottentots in the excitement of the occasion was quite amusing. The scene of separation with our dear friends and deliverers was exquisitely affecting. The kind Dutchman’s family were weeping aloud; Mr. Troutar’s mother-in-law clung to our little orphan family, and refused to part with them; even the Hottentots could not refrain their tears. I confess that I never felt myself so unmanned in my life, and it was only after an hour had been wasted in ineffectual efforts to say farewell, that by a desperate resolution we at last tore ourselves away. They followed us for a short distance, and then stood, and waved their hands as long as we could see them. Thus we parted from kind strangers, who had entwined themselves around our hearts in fondest endearments; and while memory holds her seat in our bosoms, I trust that we shall never cease to pray for richest blessings on the heads of our benevolent friends of the Oliphant River.

We reached Mr. Fryer’s at Donkin’s Bay about midnight, where our party was rejoined by the ladies, and we remained in the enjoyment of this excellent family’s hospitality until the next afternoon. Another painful scene of leave-taking had here to be repeated, and it was with difficulty that our ladies could command themselves in parting, from one who had proved so lavish in his generosity to all of us in our distress. “May the Lord reward him,” and “think upon him for good,” according to all the kindness that he showed unto us.

It would be tedious to enter into minute details of our land journey to the Cape. It presented all the usual adventures of that tedious mode of travel;—sometimes ploughing sandy deserts deep to the axles,—and occasionally land-locked by an interminable maze of tangled brushwood. Frequently we lost our path in the darkness, the over-laboured brutes were many times at a stand-still from exhaustion, and scarcity of water; and once or twice, we had nearly suffered a second shipwreck in the desert, to the great alarm of the ladies, and not without the hazard of broken bones.

Mr. Troutar accompanied us with his waggons and cattle, through several dreary stages, until we reached Mr. Vanzells’ farm. This gentleman was uncle to our worthy conductor, and also a field cornet. Here we obtained fresh cattle, and started under a new convoy. It was with extreme regret that we parted from Mr. Troutar, whose kind and gentlemanly deportment had endeared him to us all. I was also compelled to leave Mr. Harris our cabin passenger here, under charge of our surgeon, as he was so ill as to be unable to proceed; Mr. Vanzells promising to forward both gentlemen to Cape Town on horseback, so soon as Mr. Harris was able to bear the journey. After travelling by uneasy stages for several days, we crossed the Peak Berg range of mountains, the Boers throughout treating us with unvarying kindness, and we furnishing much amusement to the inquisitive and simple people, by the strangeness of our dress, and speech, and psalmody.

At length on the 28th January at midnight, we entered Cape Town, fatigued with our journeyings in the wilderness, and happy in being able once more to mingle in the society of our countrymen. The luxury of a good bed, which for the first time I had here enjoyed, since leaving the ship, could not induce me to sleep. The whole scene of dangers and deliverances, through which the Lord had led us, here rose vividly before my view, and I could not refrain from giving fervent thanks to Him, “who had not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.” He had indeed “chastened us sore, but he had not given us over to death;” and we could adopt the language of the Psalmist, “Thou, who hast showed us great and sore troubles, shalt quicken us again, and bring us again from the depths of the earth.” “So will we sing praises unto thy name for ever.”

Immediately after breakfast, on the morning of the 29th January, I waited on Colonel Bell, at that time Deputy-Governor of the Cape, and represented to him the miserable condition in which my crew and passengers were. He immediately sent for one of his officers to accompany me to our lodgings, and to make arrangements for the payment of our board. Being in miserable plight for want of clothing, I was at this time greatly indebted to Captain Christie of London, who presented me with an excellent suit of his own. I had the pleasure, also, of meeting an excellent friend in Dr. Brown (belonging originally to my native town of Peterhead), who took me to his own house, and entertained me most hospitably during my stay at the Cape. Meanwhile, the merchants and gentlemen of the place opened a public subscription on our behalf, which was handsomely headed by Colonel Bell, and soon amounted to the sum of £120. By this money, a sum equal to a month’s wages, was distributed in clothing to each of the crew, and the passengers received a similar supply, in equitable proportions,—the three children being fully furnished with all necessaries for the continuance of their voyage, and the ladies being supplied with clothing and a little money. I also received £10 of this money, along with a letter of commendation, and I am thus minute in detailing the benevolence of the people of Cape Colony, as it is deserving, alike of personal gratitude and public praise.

Every effort was now made to forward the passengers to their destinations, and to dispose of the crew by drafting them into different ships. After a little exertion, this was happily accomplished on behalf of all, with the exception of two steerage passengers, who preferred to accept of situations in the colony. So soon as I had thus discharged my obligations to the people under my care, I began to think how to dispose of myself. After various friendly offers of employment, none of which exactly suited me, I finally accepted of a passage home in a London schooner belonging to Mr. Fletcher, and bound to Bristol. My kind friends in Cape Town affectionately accompanied me to the ship, and, after taking grateful leave of them, our vessel set sail for England, and in due season, “by the good hand of my God upon me,” I returned in peace to the bosom of my wife and family.

Thus terminated a voyage replete with judgment and mercies. In the review of its “affliction and misery—the wormwood and the gall—my soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled within me.” And “may my right hand forget its cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth,” if I forget that “God who answered us in the day of our distress, and was with us in the way in which we went.” I trust also that the same spirit and resolution may abide upon all the survivors of that disastrous voyage which appeared in the day of our calamity. Even the most indifferent in religious things there owned that it was “a good thing to call upon God,” and “poured out a prayer when his chastening hand was upon them.” May it never be said of any of us that “we flattered him with our mouth, and lied unto him with our tongues,” or that “we forgat God and remembered not his wonders.” The solemn professions which we then made are still before his throne, and He will never forget, however we may, the extraordinary obligations under which we lie, to dedicate our spared lives to His service. O that we may every day perform the vows which “our lips uttered—our mouths spake when trouble was upon us;” and that our future lives may realize the holy resolution of the man of God: “Thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling; therefore I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.”

And surely this simple tribute to Divine goodness carries with it a solemn message to every reader’s heart. How impressively does it declare uncertainty of life, even in moments of greatest seeming security. It was when least expecting it, that the foregoing calamities came. And who can tell how soon God may disturb our dreams of security, by the summons to the judgment seat? “We stand in jeopardy every hour.” In a world so full of sorrow and evil, we are daily exposed to the visitation of death. And does it not become us, in such circumstances, “to be always ready—to have our loins girt, and our lamps burning, and be like men that wait for the coming of the Lord?” “O that we were wise—that we understood this, that we would consider our latter end.” Sailors, above most men, ought especially to cultivate this spirit of habitual preparedness. Their calling preeminently exposes them to peril, and they are found “in deaths oft.” The breeze that fills their sails, and wafts them to their destination, may swell into tempest, and become “the breath of the blast of Jehovah’s nostrils” for their destruction. The ocean that spreads around them a peaceful pathway to distant lands, may heave into huge and hoary billows, that yawn only to engulf them in its horrid grave. The very shore that greets them with gladness after long absence, may be changed into a scene of fatal shipwreck, and death find them at the very door of supposed deliverance. Who does not feel as he treads the deck of his gallant vessel, that death is lurking near him in every element that lies over, and around, and underneath his feet; and that God is proclaiming, at every moment, in all the voice of nature, “As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is but a step between thee and death.” And can we be safe, in such circumstances, to live in unpreparedness for that which may meet us the next moment, and must meet us ere long? Or ought we to feel satisfied, in any circumstances, if we be living in a state of enmity with God? What can the sinner do, and whither shall he flee, when judgments overtake him? He cannot look up to a neglected and angry God; he dare not look down upon an undone eternity; nothing remains for him but “a fearful looking for of judgment and of fiery indignation to destroy him as an adversary.” Why, oh why, should we live in such a state of defenceless danger—exposed at every accident to the destroying vengeance of heaven? Is not a divine Saviour now offering us not only his protection, but also his propitiation? The merit of his sacrifice is able to screen all who confide in it, not only from temporal danger, but also from eternal destruction. Let us seek our present safety, in acceptance with God, through the blood of Immanuel; and we shall find our security from all future evils in the covert of his covenant. Then, “though we walk in the midst of trouble his right hand will save us,” and we shall face every danger with a fearless confidence, while we can exclaim—“The Lord of Hosts is on our side, the God of Jacob is our refuge.” For Immanuel shall be “an hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest, as rivers of waters in a dry place, and as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.”

If any truth be confirmed by the foregoing narrative, it is the truth of God’s word, that “the Lord is good—a stronghold in the day of trouble, and he knoweth them that trust in him.” The “profiting” of prayer in such a case must “be apparent to all.” It was the smallest part of its advantages that it preserved order, and prevented excess,—that it filled the fainting hearts of the crew and passengers with courage, and renewed their strength when they were sinking fast into despair. It did more; their eyes turned heavenward in their helplessness, and they found a power superior to their own, interpose for their deliverance. These poor men cried, and “the Lord heard them, and delivered them out of all their distresses.” If any reader should doubt the truth of this conclusion, or deny it, let him go and “prove God,” by the same means; let him “in everything by prayer and supplication make known his request to God;” and if his prayer be sincere the gracious answer will be certain; his own experience will but accord with the infallible testimony of all ages. “Ye shall seek me and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.” “For this shall every one that is godly pray unto thee in a time when thou mayest be found; surely in the floods of great waters they shall not come nigh unto him.”

Transcriber’s Note:

Punctuation has been standardised. Hyphenation and spelling has been retrained as published in the original publication except as follows:

Page 14
qnantity to extinguish so extensive changed to
quantity to extinguish so extensive

Page 94
the vows which “our lipsuttered—our moutths spake changed to
the vows which “our lips uttered—our mouths spake