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 IIF 
 
 AWFUL SHIPWR 
 
 AN AFFECTING NARRATIVE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UJVPARALiliELiED SUFFERIXGTS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Tw; 
 
 Crew of the ship Francis Spaight, which foundered 
 on her passage from St. John's, N. B. to Lim- 
 erick, in November last. The survivors, 
 after remaining on board the wreck 
 19 days, during which they were 
 driven to the most ar'^i'l ex- 
 tremities, were re- 
 lieved by the 
 
 Brig Angeronia, Capt. Gillard, on her passagb 
 FROM Newfoundland to Teignmouth. 
 
 Communicated for the Press, by John Palmer, 
 one of the survivors. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 Published by G-. C. Perry. 
 
 1837. 
 
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 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Clerk's Office of 
 the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
 5 '0.45 
 
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;. 
 
 PALMER'S NARRATIVE. 
 
 .^ 
 
 # 
 
 It is alwayis at the extreme hazard of their lives, 
 that navigatois, as well as others, adventure upon 
 the boisterous ocean ; and the past year (1836,) 
 will be long remembered as a remarkable one, for 
 the many melancholy shipwrecks and fatal disas-_ 
 ters at sea, that have attended it — yet, seldom is it] 
 that it falls to our lot to record an instance attend- ^ 
 ed with so great a portion of human misery, as the 
 one narrated in the succeeding pages — the melan- 
 choly narrative cannot fail of exciting the sympathy 
 of those who can feelfor suffering humanity, wher- 
 ever it may be read, and wherever the fate of the 
 unfortunate sufferers may be disclosed to the heart 
 and eye of sensibility. 
 
 The narrator, John Palmer, who was a hand on 
 board, (and to whom we are indebted for the mel- 
 ancholy particulars,) is a young man of unquestion- 
 able veracity, of respectable parentage, and of 
 more than an ordinary education ; and who, it ap- 
 pears by his own confession, entered by a fictitious 
 name, and without the knowledge of his friends, 
 on board the British ship Francis Spaight, at St. 
 Johns, N. B., bound from thence to Limerick ; and 
 which he was induced to do for no other reason (it 
 being his first voyage,) than to gratify a strong pro- 
 pensity to " see the world," and which, he observes, 
 he saw no great cause to regret until the 3d day of 
 the month proceeding that on which he entered, 
 " when (to use his own words,) it was our misfor- 
 tune to experience a gale, which for severity, (in 
 
6 palmer's narrative. 
 
 the opinion of the oldest sailors on board,) was sel- 
 dom surpassed, if ever equalled ; and during which, 
 while lying to under a close reefed mizzen topsail, 
 the ship capsized, when three of her crew found a 
 watery grave ! Orders were immediately there- 
 upon given by the officers to the survivors, to do 
 all in their power for the preservation of the ship, 
 as well as their lives, and who, after much hard la- 
 bor, succeeded in cutting away her masts, when 
 she righted ; but, to the inexpressible surprise and 
 horror of all on board, it was discovered that not a 
 particle of either water or provisions could be ob- 
 tained to sustain the lives of those who had not 
 shared the fate of their unfortunate companions ! 
 but this (as it afterwards proved) was only the be- 
 ginning of our calamities. As there was nothing 
 now that presented to our view but the horrible 
 prospects of starving, without any appearance of 
 relief, we were reduced to the most deplorable 
 state imaginable ! peculiarly so as regarded my- 
 self, who had ever been a stranger to hardship, 
 much less to hunger and want. 
 
 The wind continued to blow with unabated fury 
 the two succeeding days and nights, and it was 
 only by lashing ourselves to the wreck, that we 
 were prevented from being washed overboard by 
 the tremendous sea occasioned thereby ; and when 
 partially relieved in this respect, our minds were 
 agitated by the dreadful apprehensions that we had 
 only escaped from a watery grave to experience 
 tortures still more to be dreaded ! Five days were 
 passed in this state of painful anxiety, when our 
 sufferings, produced by craving hunger and burn- 
 ing thirst, were too great to be longer endured ; 
 
 and to alleviate which, we were finally driven to 
 the dreadful alternative of casting lots, thereby to 
 determine who of our number should be put to 
 death, that his body might serve as sustenance for 
 the remainder '—the lot fell on the youngest on 
 board, a poor friendless youth, who had been 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 **> 
 
 ^ 
 
1 
 
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 ^- 
 
 palmer's narrative. 7 
 
 apprenticed to the Captain, and who by the great 
 hardships that he had endured, as well as long fast- 
 ing, was reduced almost to a skeleton. Wheth- 
 er there was a previous understanding among 
 some of the ship's crew, that he should be the one 
 selected as a victim, without allowing him an equal 
 chance with the others for his life, is well known 
 to Him, from whom no human act can be conceal- 
 ed ; but, whether such was the fact or not, such 
 was the distracted state of my feelings at that mo- 
 ment, that it was impossible for me to determine — 
 it is enough for me to remember, nay, at the pre- 
 sent moment, my blood chills at the bare recollec- 
 tion of the heart-rending scene that ensued, when 
 the fate of this poor unfortunate lad was made 
 known to him ! he first burst into tears, and en- 
 treated that his life might be spared for a few days, 
 which not being allowed him, he reduced the time 
 to a single day ; and when he found that there was 
 even an objection to this, he became frantic, de- 
 claring it his determination to defend himself to 
 the last, although he retained hardly sufficient 
 strength to support himself erect ; but, being in 
 this respect but little inferior to that of his other 
 shipmates, although attacked by three or four of 
 the most able-bodied, he succeeded, with his jack- 
 knife, in keeping them off for some minutes, when 
 nature becoming exhausted, he foil prostrate on 
 the deck, and in which condition he was instantly 
 despatched, and his limbs detached from his ema- 
 ciated body, and distributed among his still more 
 wretched shipmates ! Frequently had I heard and 
 read that famine had led men to the commission 
 of such horrible excesses, that insensible on such 
 occasions to the appeals of nature and reason, they 
 assumed the character of beasts of prey, and deaf 
 to every representation, coolly meditated the death 
 of a fellow-creature ! but, foreign was it from my 
 mind, that I should myself be brouglit not only to 
 be an eye witness to a scene like this, but to be- 
 
 i 
 
8 
 
 palmer's narrative. 
 
 come, in reality, one of its melancholy subjects ! 
 
 Two days had, however, elapsed after the tragical 
 death of the unfortunate youth, before I could be 
 brought to follow the awful example of my starving 
 companions ! To what woful extremities can poor 
 human nature be driven by extreme hunger ! sure- 
 ly, none can be truly sensible of it, except those 
 who have experienced it. It is not necessary for 
 me to add, that to this state, I (who had been used 
 to luxurious living, and who had unnecessarily left 
 a home affording " enough and to spare,") was 
 brought ! 
 
 However loathsome this food may be viewed by 
 my readers, (some of whom may perhaps think, as 
 I once thought, that even a lingering death by 
 starvation, would be preferable to that of attempt- 
 ing to appease it by the use of human flesh,) it was 
 found insufficient to support life but a few days, 
 when a similar plan was adopted in the selection 
 of another victim ! and in a few days after, anoth- 
 er ! The first of the two appeared perfectly re- 
 conciled to his fate, and requested only a few mo- 
 ments to prepare himself for death, which he em- 
 ployed in fervent prayer for himself, and for our 
 speedy deliverance, and then delivered up his life 
 without a struggle ! But, the piteous moans and 
 lamentations of the latter, in consequence (as he 
 represented,) of leaving behind him a beloved wife 
 and several small children, dependant on him for 
 support, were truly appalling, and could not have 
 been withstood by any but such wretched beings 
 as we were, whose sufferings and privations had 
 driven to a state of desperation ! This was, in re- 
 ality, the situation of some of the unhappy surviv- 
 ors, who, deprived of their reason, and driven to a 
 state of raving madness, had their strength admit- 
 ted of it, it is not improbable that they would, like 
 ravenous beasts, have fallen upon and destroyed 
 one another, without any regard to the plan pur- 
 sued in the selection of victims. 
 
PALMER 8 NARRATIVE. 
 
 9 
 
 - ■ ' 
 
 ' A few day previous to that on which wc were re- 
 lieved, four of our wretched companions expired, 
 (by the names of O'Brien, Gorham, Beham, and 
 Burns,) and all, apparently, in a perfect state of in- 
 sensibility, as regarded their real situations. It 
 was astonishing to witness how different were the 
 effects produced by their sufferings. The ravings 
 of O'Brien and Beham, in their last moments, were 
 like those of madmen, and whose greatest efforts 
 (with fists clenched, and with gnashing teeth,) ap- 
 peared to be to commit violence on those' of their 
 shipmates by whom they were approached ; and 
 some of whom would, no doubt, have received seri- 
 ous injury, had they not retained sufficient strength 
 to enable them to creep away beyond their reach. 
 Burns, although he talked incessantly and incohe- 
 rently, manifested a more harmless disposition — 
 at one moment he would be engaged in singing 
 some favorite sea song, and at the next, would ap- 
 pear to imagine himself the commander of the 
 wreck, calling on his shipmates (by wrong names) 
 to attend to their duty, assuring them that there 
 was every prospect of a short, plensant, and pros- 
 perous voyage ! The behaviour of Gorham was dif- 
 ferent from that of either of the three mentioned ; 
 at intervals he appeared more rational, and not in- 
 sensible of his situation, and while speaking of his 
 unfortunate family as bereaved of one on whom 
 they depended for support, would weep like a child ; 
 but soon would appear to lose himself, and call on 
 and talk to his children as rf present, calling them 
 by name, and entreating them to take pity on and 
 indulge their father with even a few drops of wa- 
 ter. 
 
 As regarded myself, although in body exhibiting 
 the appearance of a living skeleton, yet I bore my 
 sufferings and privations with a great degree of for- 
 titude, until three days previous to that of our de- 
 liverance, when it was my fate (as T was informed 
 by my shipmates,) to become delirous. When re- 
 2 
 
10 
 
 PALMER 3 NARRATirE. 
 
 Stored to my reason, I recollect that while I re- 
 mained unconscious of my situation, all appeared 
 like a dream. I imagined myself at home, in the 
 presence of my affectionate parents, brothers, sis- 
 ters, &C., but confined to a sick bed, a prey to a 
 burning fever, and tormented with most intolera- 
 ble thirst. I plainly, as I imagined, recognized my 
 friends, standing by my bedside, but who not only 
 appeared to disregard my entreaties for water, but 
 to view me with much apparent indifference ; and 
 it was, when endeavoring by gestures, (as I either 
 was, or imagined myself deprived of the power of 
 speech,) to acquaint them of the true state of my 
 feelings and the tortures with which they were af- 
 flicting me, by refusing to indulge me with a little 
 water with which to cool my parched throat, that 
 my reason returned, and I became more sensible of 
 my wretched condition. 
 
 By the return of my reason my mind was once 
 more distracted by the most awful forebodings ; be- 
 ing sensible that by the selecting of one victim af- 
 ter another,. we were fast reducing our number, I 
 could not but expect that my turn would by and by 
 come ; or, what was, if possible, still more to be 
 dreaded, that it might hr my ^ot to survive a!! my 
 wretched coinpanions. uu- !m .Jk labi to perish Oii 
 th'" -.Vioi-k, nud thfjrcbv my ;itl1' icd r-'r nf- pvo' 
 leit Hi suspense as regarded my wretched late i — 
 There was yet another circumstance that was cal-* 
 culated to increase, rather than to diminish our 
 misery — the skeletons, &c. of the bodies of such 
 of our unfortunate companions, as had been doom- 
 ed to die by our hands, had (after having been 
 stripped of all their flesh,) been committed to the 
 deep, and which had, no doubt, the effect to attract 
 numerous sharks, some of them of astonishing 
 length, which in calm weather were always to be 
 seen swimming around the wreck ; and which too 
 plainly told us what our fate would be, if through 
 
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 re 
 in 
 
palmer's narrative. 
 
 11 
 
 " , -^ 
 
 weakness, any of our number should be so unfor- 
 tunate as to fall overboard. 
 
 Sixteen dayji had now elapsed since that on 
 which our unfortunate ship was capsized ; during 
 the most of which time human flesh had been ou? 
 only food, and this alone would have been found 
 insufficient to have preserved our lives so lonir, had 
 we not in this time been blessed with three or four 
 showers, supplying us with a moderate quantity of 
 water, and w Mch we caught by spreading and 
 wringing our clothes. Loathsome as our food had 
 been, the day previous to that on which we were 
 relieved, we had partaken of the last of it, with the 
 exception of a part of two quarters of the last vic- 
 tim, and It was consequently considered necessary 
 (while our strength would admit of it,) to select 
 from among our diminished number, another, and 
 the fourth victim ! To determine whom it should 
 which Vr' ?.'" °f deciding by lot was adopted, 
 which fell on the mate. The poor fellow appeared 
 but very httle affected thereat, having been fre- 
 Sl hn'tl '" ^^.^^^^t^hat so great were his suf- 
 f!fi^ u I i'u ^^""'f^ *^°«« of his shipmates their 
 tate, who had been doomed in this manner to yield 
 
 T 1 ?"*u H^^ ' ^""^ '^^"^'^ ""t but hope that if it 
 ttr . \Tu "^9^«?ary to sacrifice another, 
 that It might fall to his lot, as he had neither wife 
 nor children to eaye behind. His only desire was 
 that he might die by strangulation, the deaths of 
 ^e others having been caused by opening a vein, 
 With the captain the fate of his mate had quite a 
 trZ '!f''^i ^"!. attachment for him had been 
 great, and he therefore used much persuasive ar- 
 gument to prevail on his unfortunate crew to post- 
 pone the sacrifice for a single day. He had, by 
 soaking in salt water, preserved the liver and brains 
 ot the unfortunate youth, (the first victim,) and was 
 the next mormng about to share this, with the re- 
 maming food, among his companions, when to the 
 inexpressible joy of all, a vessel was descried bear- 
 
n 
 
 w'-, 
 
 PALMER 3 NARRATIVE. 
 
 ing down for the wreck, which proved to be the 
 brig Angeronia, Captain Gillard, bound from New- 
 foundland to Teignmouth. 
 
 When the Captain and crew succeeded in reach- «■ 
 ing our ship's deck, and beheld the awful spectacle 
 which we presented, and the melancholy remains 
 of the last victim on which we had subsisted for 
 the three days previous, they appeared for a mo- 
 ment as if doubting the reality of what they saw ; 
 but convinced, they united in one general exclama- 
 tion of horror and surprize ! Our appearance at 
 that moment, must indeed have been shocking in 
 the extreme ; but two of our number possessing 
 sufficient strength to stand erect, the remainder 
 were only able to creep about upon their hands and 
 knees — our faces, arms, hands, and other parts of 
 our bodies, that had been exposed to the powerful 
 rays of the sun, burnt nearly black ; and our clothes 
 having been continually wet, our emaciated bodies 
 were chafed and nearly covered with painful soars. 
 We were by our kind deliverers conveyed on 
 board the brig, where every thing was done that 
 could be done to alleviate our miseries. Broths 
 were made for us, but of which, as of water, we 
 v/ere permitted only to partake sparingly, and to 
 which we may imp'-u. the snlv/itiua of our liu; : 
 fur had we been p^rmiticd tj eat ufj itiucl- a-' on- 
 appetites craved, it must have proved fatal to us. 
 By the kind assistance of my benefactors (for which 
 may Heaven reward them,) by the time the brig 
 reached her destined port, I had, by kind treat- 
 ment, gained sufficient strength to enable me, like 
 another prodigal son, to reach that long wished for 
 home, which had been the scene of many happy 
 momenta, but of which I had been unconscious, un- 
 til I had unwisely deserted it, to experience trials 
 and hardships of which none but those who have 
 experienced similar, can have a true conception. — 
 By my great sufferings, my health still remains 
 impaired,and my constitution (which was previous- 
 
 ^ '.'^SW^" 
 
 -t 
 
palmer's narrative. 
 
 13 
 
 '>» 
 
 i 
 
 \y good,) so much broken, as to render it very pro- 
 bable, that until the day of my death I shall remain 
 a living monument of my past folly. 
 
 True it is, as I have frequently heard it remark- 
 ed, that dear-bought experience often proves a most 
 valuable instructor, and that we are sometimes in- 
 debted to adversity for our wisdom. I had heard 
 much of foreign countries and had long felt a strong 
 inclination to visit them ; and although I had not 
 unfrequently read of, and listened with no incon- 
 siderable interest, to the narratives of the surpris- 
 ing adventures of sailors, as they recounted their 
 many hair breadth escapes, and the great perils 
 and privations to which they were daily exposed 
 while navigating the deep ; yet it had but little ef- 
 fect to deter me from an attempt to accomplish my 
 views — to gratify a too common propensity to ad- 
 venture abroad, even at the risk of my life, "to see 
 the world !"— others, I argued, had been and re- 
 turned in safety, and why not I ? With this en- 
 couragement alone, I adventured — but, alas, too 
 soon did I experience the difference between that 
 peaceful and comfortable home, the habitation of 
 endeared friends, the scene of every enjoyment that 
 
 T , 1 lif^bly dpsire. to that of beins" tossed 
 
 to uiut u> upon a I. i ' u.? ocean, and occa^^ioii- 
 
 n 
 
 \\\ iusu\\r,cc] 
 
 (lam- 
 
 dreary forecastle. 
 
 MIU- 
 
 sisting on the coarsest luud, and with none bat per- 
 fect strangers, of almost every country, for my 
 companions. But, what was all this to what I was 
 afterwards doomed to suffer ? The sad tale has 
 been told — the melancholy particulars have been 
 truly and faithfully recorded in the preceding 
 pages. 
 
 Although while I remained on the wreck, my suf- 
 ferings were so great as in one instance to deprive 
 me of reason, yet, in my most rational moments, I 
 could but contrast my own miserable situation with 
 that of someof my young acquaintance on shore-- 
 that while they were, in all probability, reposing in 
 
14 
 
 palmer's narrative. 
 
 security by the firesides of their friends, and bleat 
 with and enjoying every necessary of life that their 
 hearts could wish, I was enduring all the tortures 
 which extreme hunger and parching thirst could 
 be productive of; and to relieve which, was finally 
 driven to the awful extremity of eating the flesh 
 and drmking the blood of those who had been my 
 ship companions ! My dear young friends, it is my 
 sincere prayer that you may not follow my exam- 
 ples, and unwisely attempt to gratify a similar pro- 
 pensity " to see the world," but rather learn wis- 
 dom by my folly ; take the advice of one who 
 knows--who by his imprudence and too hasty con- 
 clusions, has been doomed to drink deep, very deeo 
 of the cup of adversity ! Never be so unwise as £ 
 exchange a certainty for an uncertainty ; if you have 
 conifortable homes, and possess the means of pro- 
 curing even a humble living, be satisfied therewith, 
 tor should you be otherwise inclined, you may have 
 cause ever after.to regret it. As regards myself I 
 can truly say with the poet, that ' 
 
 " 'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam 
 Be It ever so humble, there 's no place like home : ' 
 A charm from the skies, seems to hallow us there 
 VYhich seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. 
 Home, home, swoct, aweet home 
 There 's no place like home. ' 
 
 An exile from hdme, splendor dazzles in vain 
 Oh ! give me my lonely thatched cottage again : 
 Ihe birds smgmg gaily, that come at my call. 
 <jrive me them with peace of mind, dearer thaA all. 
 Home, sweet home, &c. 
 
 If I return homp overburdened with care 
 The heart's dearest solace I 'm sure to meet there • 
 1 he bJiss I experience whenever I come 
 Makes no other place seem like that of sweet home. 
 Home, sweet home," &.c, 
 
 hvl^'^^ T'^ ^^^" ^"^^ ^^^'^ '^ remarked, and 
 by those who were probably more wise than my- 
 self, that " he who would know how to prize heaUh 
 
 i 
 
 •n 
 
 -r » 
 
i 
 
 TS 
 
 
 palmer's narrative. 
 
 15 
 
 •» • 
 
 should for a period be deprived of it." A very cor- 
 rect remark, in my estimation, and one that will with 
 equal propriety apply to some few in the humbler 
 walks of life, who, although blessed with health, 
 and with the means of earning by their daily avo- 
 cations a comfortable subsistence, yet manifest 
 much uneasiness and discontent, because there are 
 others who appear to have been the greater favor- 
 ites of kind fortune, and to enjoy more profusely 
 her gifts—wrongfully imagining that the splendor 
 of wealth QXid. possession of riches, are alone essen- 
 tial to their happiness ; but, such an opinion I know 
 by sad experience, to be an erroneous one, for al- 
 though it has been with me from early age, (as 
 with thousands,) the great object of my pursuit, 
 yet I can truly say, that I never did experience 
 true happiness until that joyful moment, when, af- 
 ter having been driven to the most awful extremi- 
 ties by hunger and thirst, I was presented by my 
 deliverers with a cup of pure water and a howl of 
 broth ; and which I at that moment, would have 
 been found unwilling to have exchanged for all the 
 wealth of Peru. And such, I am confident, would 
 be the conclusions of those, who, although stran- 
 gers to rfial want, vet too frequently murmur ar 
 gJ idence, for d*it)arring them from tiii OR., 
 
 joyment of the luxuries umJ •supuifluitie.^ ^vhic . 
 has piuced within the rea*n . ■* others, woulu Licy 
 for a moment condescend to look down upon the 
 thousands who are so far more miserable than them- 
 selves, as to find it difficult to procure from day to • 
 day, food sufficient to satisfy the cravings of na- 
 ture, they would not, while enjoying the necessa- 
 ries of life, conceive themselves so extremely un- 
 happy, although deprived of the enjoyment of some 
 of its luxuries. But such is the aspiring disposi- 
 tion of man, generally speaking, and such his nat- 
 ural thirst for wealth, that he is seldom found will- 
 ing to look down and to contrast his situation with 
 those who move in the lower ranks of life, (altho' 
 
16 
 
 paImer's narrative. 
 
 it is iioi improbable that some were born to great- 
 er fortunes,) but is continually looking up, and en- 
 vying the rich for their great wealth, although the 
 possession thereof, it is possible, would render him 
 ten times more unhappy than he would otherwise 
 be. Pity it is, that such could not be made sensi- 
 ble that the real source of all human happiness is 
 not riches, but contentment. 
 
 It is a lamentable truth that a thirst for, or a 
 pursuit after imaginary happiness, too much en- 
 grosses the attention of mankind generally, and 
 too much do they expect to find it in the possession 
 of great wealth. This is a great mistake, for no 
 one can be pronounced happy, who depends upon 
 fortune for his happiness. That man alone is most 
 happy who is contented with the situation in which 
 Providence has placed him. We live in a world 
 naturally subject to lamentable events ; and every 
 day's instruction teems with lessons teaching us 
 the vicissitudes, as well as the vanity and empti- 
 ness of all transitory things. Although we may 
 at times see cause to rejoice, yet very soon we may 
 see equal cause to mourn, by being unexpectedly 
 >iumbled by adversity ; and as these are vicissitudes 
 to which the wealth and honors of this world can 
 form no barrier, we ousfht not to indulge ourselves 
 in repining, in uneasiness, or despondency, be- 
 cause we do not possess them to profusion. 
 
 How little disposed should we be to find fault 
 with and to murmur at our condition in life, how- 
 ever humble it might be, were we to reflect for a 
 moment how much more miserable thej might be ! 
 I have seen the time when I would have been un- 
 willing to have exchanged conditions with any one 
 within the circle of my acquaintance ; and I have 
 seen the time, and that very recently, when I would 
 have gladly exchanged conditions with the poorest 
 beggar in existence ; nay, would have given thou- 
 sands, had I possessed them, for the privilege of 
 sharing with him the humble fare bestowed on him 
 
 •V* 
 
 1 1- 
 
 1 
 
PALMER S NARRATIVE. 
 
 17 
 
 in charity. Mysterious, indeed, are the ways of 
 Providence ; the same wheel which raises us to- 
 day, on the smooth, unruffled ocean of prosperity, 
 may, before the morrow, roll us in the stormy sea 
 of adversity. The scenes of life are continually 
 shifting, and mankind are ever subject to ills, per- 
 plexities, and disappointments ; and we are too 
 apt to find fault, and conclude that we are possess- 
 ed of a greater share of worldly afflictions than our 
 fellow-men, or more than our proportion in the 
 scale of justice ; but on reflection, I am persuaded 
 mankind are not so unequally provided for in this 
 world as many imagine. " God is no respecter of 
 persons," he favors one man no more than another, 
 and his blessings are equally showered upon all his 
 offspring. 
 
 In all the changing scenes of life, we behold 
 man ever in pursuit of happiness — it is his aim and 
 object ; nay, the very desire of his heart to be hap- 
 py ; and in hopes of being so, ere his days, even 
 of this transitory life shall end, he toils and labors 
 with an unceasing and unwearied hand — no obsta- 
 cles that meet him in his path are too great to be 
 overcome ; but, alas ! before it is attained, how 
 often does life itself, with all its anxieties and cares, 
 vanish forever. It is a great mistake to account 
 those things necessary and essential to our happi- 
 ness, that are superfluous. Let the man of a firm 
 health not account himself happy only in the enjoy- 
 ment of this good, but may the thought of suffering 
 nothing among so many calamitous events to which 
 he is subject, make him yet more content — let him 
 enjoy himself, not only from the good circum- 
 stances that are his lot, but from the evils too, 
 which do not befall him. The restlessnesb and in- 
 quietude peculiar to a great portion of mankind, 
 through all the several stages of their existence 
 are the sole immolate jf time. They are con- 
 tinually looking forward lo a time, when they gjjaji 
 be rich in the possessions of the world ; anj even 
 o 
 

 palmer's najrrative. 
 
 'I 
 
 
 ■i 
 
 m, who has the abundance of riches, " a full 
 et and full store," the same anxieties, the samo 
 
 easy spirit and restless mind, embitter the sweetH 
 of his life, and waste his time and years. 
 
 Let us remember that we are but sojourners here 
 on earth — that we are fast hastening to our long 
 homes, and let the benign anticipation of happiness 
 hereafter, make us triumph over adversity, and in- 
 struct us in the proper improvement of affliction?), 
 that they may efficaciously work out for us a " far 
 more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." — 
 Thus suitably impressed with the hopes of consum- 
 mated happiness and fruition in the realms of peace, 
 and with minds dilated above the annoying influ- 
 ence of worldly troubles and adverse events, we 
 can tranquilly withstand all the buffetting billows 
 of time, and welcome the auspicious hour which 
 transports us from these tenements of clay, to an 
 " inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fad- 
 eth not away." 
 
 Success and disappointment, mirth and despon- 
 dency, alternately accompany us through the jour- 
 ney of time. One day we set forth on our road 
 with vigor and animation, favored by an auspicious 
 atmosphere and a serene sky, full of anticipation 
 and elated with hope ; but ere night arrives, to lay 
 our weary limbs to rest, some incident has blasted 
 all our expectations — the morn which beamed forth 
 its radiance and dispensed to us pleasure, is sup- 
 planted by a sable night, which brings to us a sad 
 reverse, of many pains, anxieties and sorrows. — 
 Hence, it is not an abundance of riches that can 
 secure to us that degree of happiness and tranquil- 
 Uty of mind that all are anxious to experience — a 
 good share of prudence is far more preferable ; as 
 for the want of it, the young and inexperienced 
 frequently and rashly launch their frail barks be- 
 fore they are able to stem the adverse current of 
 life, and are wrecked among the shoals and quick- 
 sands of adversity. 
 
 N 
 
 hVl. 
 
palmer's narrative. 
 
 19 
 
 CLOSING REMARKS. 
 
 > 
 
 *r 
 
 The foregoing concludess the interesting Narra- 
 tive and Address of Palmeh, to which a friend begs 
 liberty to subjoin some few remarks. As has been 
 remarked at the commencement of the Narrative, 
 the year 1836 will be long remembered as a pecul- 
 iar one for the many unfortunate occurrences at 
 sea that have attended it. Scarcely a week has 
 passed, that some awful shipwreck, great loss of 
 lives in consequence of vessels taking fire, &c. has 
 not been announced to us. Since the commence- 
 ment of the year, it is probable that not a less num- 
 ber than one thousand persons, (men, women and 
 children,) have become the victims of one or the 
 other of these devouring elements, on, or in the vi- 
 cinity of the American coast, attended with all the 
 horrors, and in some instances, by the most aggra- 
 vating circumstances that the human mind can con- 
 ceive of. 
 
 To maintain a commercial intercourse with for- 
 eign nations, it is necessary, notwithstanding the 
 perils to which they subject themselves, that there 
 should be found some willing to adventure their 
 lives ; and it is not surprising that there should be 
 many of that useful class, who, accustomed from 
 their youth to a seafaring life, are found willing to 
 brave all dangers, and to subject themselves to al- 
 most incredible hardships, for that support which 
 they would find it diflicult to obtain for themselves 
 and families on shore — but, that there should be 
 so many of quite a different class, a class compos- 
 

 20 
 
 palmer's narrative. 
 
 ed of some of our most active and promising young 
 men, of educations that Would fit them ibr the most 
 respectable stations, and produce them ample sup- 
 port, found willing, merely to gratify a silly pro- 
 pensity to see the world, to subject themselves to 
 the dangers and perils of the sea, is indeed, aston- 
 ishing. The fate of the unfortunate Palmer should 
 afford such a lesson, which ought never to be for- 
 gotten. He (Palmer) was, it appears, of respect- 
 able parentage, a stranger to hardships, blessed 
 with a competency, and with an education sufficient 
 to qualify him for the performance of the duties of 
 the profession in which he was about to engage ; 
 but, alas, what a reverse of fortune was produced 
 by a single act of imprudence. He has, indeed, 
 painted his deplorable situation, while confined to 
 the wreck, in deep colors, but we do not believe 
 the picture too highly colored ; for what situation 
 on earth is there in which man can be placed, so 
 awful as that of being driven by hunger and thirst 
 to drink the blood and eat the dead body of a fel- 
 low being ! Such appears to have been the fate of 
 this unfortunate young man — and which, we would 
 again say, should serve as a beacon to deter others 
 from an attempt to gratify similar propensities, 
 which may, for aught they know, prove equally fa- 
 tal. 
 
 Whoever has perused the melancholy account of 
 the late awful conflagration which occurred on 
 board the steamboat Royal Tar, when forty-nine 
 of her unfortunate passengers perished ; and the 
 still more recent account of the loss of the ship 
 Bristol, bound from Liverpool to New-York, (when 
 no less number than sixty-seven of her crew and 
 passengers found a watery grave,) must be satisfied 
 of the imminent danger to which mariners, and oth- 
 ers who adventure upon the deep waters, are ex- 
 posed. " Shipwreck (as a late writer observes,) is 
 always, even in its mildest form, a calamity which 
 fills the mind with horror. But what is instant 
 
 r- "i 
 
PALMER*9 NARRATIVE. 
 
 01 
 
 0t0 a 
 
 A#- 
 
 f "i 
 
 
 death, compared to the situation of those wha are 
 doomed to contend with hunger and thirst ? Be- 
 hold the ship safely gliding along upon the smooth 
 sea, every heart bounding with joy, at the prospect 
 of their soon reaching the destined port, and once 
 more embracing those friends from whom they have 
 long been separated, when, all at once, a cloud 
 arises — the sun withdraws its light — the tempest 
 rolls on, accompanied with all the horrors of mid- 
 night darkness — she drives headlong upon the 
 rocks. Ah ! fatal moment. Where now shall they 
 seek for refuge ? No kind friend is present to lend 
 the aid sufficient to protect these unhappy suffer- 
 ers ; but a small solitary boat, or fragment of the 
 wreck, must float them, they know not where ; des- 
 tined often, to satisfy the cravings of hunger and 
 to prolong a lingering life, by casting lots for a vic- 
 tim to be sacrificed to serve for food for the rest." 
 That the picture of horror and despair here pre- 
 sented to view, is not one of the imagination alone, 
 the affecting narrative of the unfortunate Palmer 
 affords a melancholy proof. Similar instances too 
 frequently occur ; nor does the two, of which we 
 have made mention, and of very recent occurrence, 
 in some respects, fall but little short of it. The 
 awful scene of distress that attended the loss of 
 the steamboat Royal Tar, as related by the few 
 who were miraculously preserved from the dread- 
 ful conflagration, must still be fresh in the minds 
 of my readers — the unfortunate passengers, com- 
 prising men, women, and children, to escape from 
 the devouring element, hanging to ropes and vari- 
 ous parts of the burning vessel, until compelled by 
 the approaching flames to loose their holds and to 
 drop into the ocean, to rise no more ; and to en- 
 hance still more the scene of horror, several unfor- 
 tunate mothers, to put an immediate period to the 
 sufferings of their tender infants, threw them over- 
 board, and leaped after them to perish with them ! 
 Nor were the scenes which attended the more re- 
 
 i 
 
22 
 
 palmer's narrative. 
 
 cent loss of the ship Bristol, (almost within view of 
 the harbor of New- York,) less distressing. The 
 description given of the lamentable catastrophe by 
 the few that escaped from the wreck, were in terms 
 almost too shocking to describe ! Mothers callinff 
 to their children, and husbands for their wives, and 
 on the next wave they were buried in the deep !^ 
 So sudden and unexpected was the disaster, that 
 several of the passengers, (principally women and 
 
 berSs^"'ten 'A^'^T '^^y "°"'^ ^^^^« their 
 Jn«tin;i ?h liT^ '^^P' °" striking the shore, 
 instantly bilged, filled, and all below were drown- 
 ed-not a groan was heard to denote the catastro- 
 phe, so awfully sudden was it. The ship, in a few 
 hours went to pieces, and the ensuing morning 
 presented a scene truly melancholy to behold-f 
 sixty of the lifeless bodies of those who perished 
 were driven on shore. Such are some of the dan! 
 gers and such frequently the awful consequences 
 of adventuring upon and exposing our lives to the 
 boisterous ocean. On this melancholy subject, we 
 think that we cannot present our readers with any 
 thing more appropriate than a description of a 
 wreck at sea. by an eniinent writer. He remarks : 
 We one day descried some shapeless object 
 drifting at a distance-it proved to be the mast of 
 a ship that must have been completely wrecked • 
 for there were the remains of handkerchiefs, b^ 
 which some of the crew had fastened themselves 
 to this spar to prevent their being washed off by 
 the waves. 1 here was no trace by which the name 
 of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had 
 
 trfuflf'ffi^^''fT''y "^«"th«' ^'»«ters of 
 shell-fish had fastened about it, and long sea-weeds 
 
 flaunted at its sides— but, where, thought I, is the 
 
 crew? Their struggle has long been^ve^-they 
 
 have gone down amidst the roar of the tempest- 
 
 their bones he whitening in the caverns of the 
 
 deep-silence oblivion, like the waves, have closed 
 
 over them, and no one can tell the story of their 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 "nr 
 
t 
 
 PALMER 3 NARRATIVE. 
 
 23 
 
 '1 
 
 * 
 
 end ! What sighs have been wafted after that ship ! 
 What prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of 
 home ! How often has the beloved wife and affec- 
 tionate mother pored over the daily news, to catch 
 some casual intelligence of this rover of the deep ! 
 How has expectation darkened into anxiety— anx- 
 iety into dread— and dread into despair ! Alas ! 
 not one memento shall ever return for love to cher- 
 ish. All that shall ever be known, is, that she sail- 
 ed from her port, " and was never heard of more." 
 " The sight of the wreck as usual, gave rise to 
 many dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the 
 case in the evening, when the weather, which had 
 hitherto been fair, began to look wild and threat- 
 ening, and gave indications of one of those sudden 
 storms that will sometimes break in upon the se- 
 renity of a summer voyage. As we sat around the 
 dull light of a lamp, in the cabin, that made the 
 gloom more ghastly, everyone had his tale of ship- 
 wreck and disaster. I was particularly struck with 
 a short one related by the captain. 
 
 " As I was sailing," said he, " in a fine stout ship, 
 across the banks of Newfoundland, one of the 
 heavy fogs that prevail in those parts, rendered it 
 impossible for me to see far ahead even in the day 
 time ; but at night the weather was so thick that 
 we could not distinguish any object at twice the 
 length of our ship. I kept lights at the mast head 
 and a constant watch forward to look out for fish- 
 ing-smacks, which are accustomed to lie at anchor 
 on the banks. The wind was blowing a smacking 
 breeze, and we were going at a great rate through 
 the water. Suddenly the watch gave the alarm of 
 " a sail ahead !" but it was scarcely uttered till we 
 were upon her. She was a small schooner at an- 
 chor with her broad side towards us. The crew 
 were all asleep, and had neglected to hoist a light. 
 We struck her just amid-ships. The force, the 
 size, and weight of our vessel, bore her down be- 
 
24 
 
 palmer's narhative. 
 
 I 
 
 low the waves ; we passed over her, and were hur- 
 ried on our course. 
 
 "As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath 
 us, 1 Mad a ghmpse of two or three half naked 
 wretches, rushing from the cabin ; they had just 
 started from their cabins to be swallowed shriek- 
 ing by the waves. I heard their drowning crv 
 mingled with the wind. The blast that bore it to 
 our ears swept us out of all farther hearing. I 
 «hall never forget that cry ! It was some timi be- 
 fore we could put the ship about, she was under 
 such headway. We returned as nearly as we could 
 guess to the place where the ship was anchored.— 
 We cruised about for several hours in the dense 
 log. We fired several guns, and listened if we 
 might hear the hallo of any survivors ; but all was 
 siJent--we never heard nor saw any thing of them 
 
liur- 
 
 eath 
 iked 
 just 
 iek- 
 cry 
 it to 
 . I 
 be- 
 ider 
 )uld 
 1— 
 nse 
 we 
 vas 
 lem 
 
 *<*( 
 
 /« 
 
 ♦ 
 
 W .