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                                  THE
                          SHIPWRECKED ORPHANS:
                        A TRUE NARRATIVE OF THE
                        SHIPWRECK AND SUFFERINGS
                                   OF
                    JOHN IRELAND AND WILLIAM DOYLEY,
                        WHO WERE WRECKED IN THE
                          SHIP CHARLES EATON,
                    ON AN ISLAND IN THE SOUTH SEAS.

                        WRITTEN BY JOHN IRELAND.

                               NEW HAVEN.

                        PUBLISHED BY S. BABCOCK.




                         _TO MY YOUNG READERS._


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 _My dear little Friends_:

For this volume of TELLER’S TALES, I have selected the “SHIPWRECKED
ORPHANS, a True Narrative of the Sufferings of John Ireland” and a
little child, named William Doyley, who were unfortunately wrecked in
the ship Charles Eaton, of London, and lived for several years with the
natives of the South Sea Islands. The remainder of the passengers and
crew of this ill-fated ship, were most inhumanly murdered by the savages
soon after they landed from the wreck. The Narrative was written by one
of the Orphans, John Ireland, and I give it to you in nearly his own
words, having made but few alterations in the style in which he tells
the story of their sufferings.

The people of some of the South Sea Islands, are of a very cruel
disposition; some of them are cannibals; that is, they eat the flesh of
those unfortunate persons who may happen to be shipwrecked on their
Islands, or whom they may take prisoners of war. Others, on the
contrary, show the greatest kindness to strangers in distress. May the
time soon come when civilization and the Christian religion shall reach
all these benighted savages, and teach them to relieve the distressed,
and to regard the unfortunate as their brethren.

As very little is yet known of the manners and customs of these savage
tribes, I trust this Narrative will prove both interesting and
instructive to you all; and I hope you will feel grateful that,—unlike
the sufferers in this story,—you are surrounded with the comforts of
life, and have kind parents and friends to watch over you and defend you
from the dangers and miseries to which these poor Orphans were so long
exposed.

                                        Your old friend and well-wisher,
                                        THOMAS TELLER.

 _Roseville Hall_, 1844.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                                  THE
                          SHIPWRECKED ORPHANS.


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Having obtained a situation as assistant in the cabin of the ship
Charles Eaton, I went on board on the 28th of September, 1833, to assist
in preparing for the voyage. In the month of December following, I had
the misfortune to fall into the dock, and not being able to swim,
narrowly escaped drowning; but through the exertions of Mr. Clare, the
chief officer of the ship, I was with difficulty saved.

About the 19th of December, we left the dock, with a cargo mostly of
lead and calico. Our crew consisted of the following persons: Frederick
Moore, commander; Robert Clare, chief mate; William Major, second mate,
Messrs. Ching and Perry, midshipmen; Mr. Grant, surgeon: Mr. Williams,
sail-maker; William Montgomery, steward; Lawrence Constantyne,
carpenter; Thomas Everitt, boatswain; John Barry, George Lawn, James
Millar, James Moore, John Carr, Francis Hower, William Jefferies, Samuel
Baylett, Charles Robertson, and Francis Quill, seamen; and John Sexton,
and myself, boys. The passengers were, Mr. Armstrong, a native of
Ireland, and twenty-five male and female children from the Emigration
Society, with some other steerage passengers.

We had a favorable passage down the river to Gravesend, where we took
leave of our pilot. A pilot is a person who takes charge of the ships in
those parts of rivers where they are dangerous. On the 23d of December
we went on our voyage, passing Deal on the 25th, and arrived at Cowes,
in the Isle of Wight, on the 27th.

The wind here proved contrary, and we were detained in the harbor until
the 4th of January, 1834; when, as we were attempting to quit, a
schooner ran against our vessel and broke off our bowsprit and jib-boom,
and did other damage to her. The bowsprit is the mast that sticks out in
front of the ship, and the jib-boom is the top joint of the bowsprit. We
were therefore obliged to remain there until the repairing of the ship
was completed; and on the 1st of February left Cowes.

[Illustration:

  _Manner in which the Murray Islanders spearfish—a female assisting._
  See Page 41.
]

This accident caused great alarm among the passengers, and more
especially among the children; indeed it was well that we escaped as we
did; for even in our own harbors in England, ships are often in great
danger.

We arrived at Falmouth, near Land’s-end in Cornwall, on the 5th of
February; and having on the 8th completed our cargo, left England with a
good wind, and every prospect of a happy voyage.

About the latter end of March, we crossed the Equator; that is, that
part of the world where the sun is over head and makes no shadow; here
we went through the usual ceremony of paying tribute to Neptune, to the
great amusement of the passengers.

We came to the Cape of Good Hope, which is in Africa, on the 1st of May,
and here we landed several of our passengers; we again set sail, on the
4th, for Hobart’s Town, in Australia, upwards of twenty thousand miles
from England, where we arrived on the 16th of June; at this place we
bade farewell to our young emigrants, and some of the passengers.

On the 8th of July, Captain and Mrs. Doyley, with their two sons, George
and William, the one about seven or eight years old, and the other about
fourteen months, came on board as passengers to Sourabaya, intending to
go from thence to Calcutta, in the East Indies. William, the youngest,
was my unfortunate companion.

Nothing particular occurred after our leaving Hobart’s Town, till we
arrived in Sidney, in New South Wales, on the 13th of July. There we
took in some ballast; that is, heavy articles which are put in the
bottom of the ship to keep it from turning over with the wind. Our
boatswain, Mr. Everitt, left us at Sidney, and we took on board in his
stead Mr. Pigot, and two or three seamen.

We set sail for China on the 29th. An accident happened two or three
days after leaving the town, which almost caused the death of our
excellent chief officer, Mr. Clare. An anchor is an iron instrument
affixed to the end of a long chain, and is used to keep ships in one
place. It generally hangs at the bows, or fore part of the vessel. The
men were getting the anchor in its proper place, and Mr. Clare was
helping them; on a sudden, the wood of the implement which he was using
broke, and he fell into the sea. We immediately stopped work, and let
down the boat, and he being an excellent swimmer, was able to keep up
till the boat reached him. We were at that time going about six miles an
hour.

We sailed this time with fine weather and good winds, and made the
entrance to Torres Straits, a narrow passage between two islands in the
Southern Ocean, on the 14th of August, in the evening.

The wind now began to blow rather hard; so much so that the captain
thought it necessary to take in some of the sails, and would not attempt
to go on during the dark. However, at daylight on the next morning we
again set sail, although the wind was very high, and the water getting
rough, that is, forming itself into large waves.

The wind continued to increase till about ten o’clock in the morning,
when the ship struck on a reef called the “Detached Reef.” A reef is a
number of rocks in the water, at a short distance from the land, over
which the water just rises, without leaving room enough for a ship to
pass. The Detached Reef was near the entrance of Torres Straits.

So violent was the shock, that the rudder (that by which a ship is
guided,) and the keel, (that ledge which runs along the bottom of the
ship,) were both knocked off, and the captain gave it as his opinion
that nothing could save the ship.

The chief mate cut away the masts, in order to lighten her; but without
effect, and we then found that the bottom was broken in, at which place
the water soon made an entrance, and completely spoiled every thing she
contained. The high and swelling waves broke completely over her, and in
a short time the vessel was a perfect wreck.

It was happy for us that the upper part kept together as it did, though
there was so much danger, from the water rising, that every one expected
to be washed over. There was plainly to be heard above the din of the
wind and sea, the horrible groaning of the planks forming the sides of
the ship, between which the water rushed as through a sieve; and as they
were one by one broken away from the ill-fated vessel, we felt that we
were approaching nearer to a death from which we could not hope to
escape, unless by some merciful interposition of Divine Goodness we
should be rescued from our watery enemy.

Nor were these thoughts lessened by seeing that ours was not the only
vessel that had cause to repent the dangerous and almost unknown
navigation of these straits. About three or four miles from us, to the
windward, or that side from which the wind blows, we observed a ship
high and dry, that is, lying out of water, upon the reefs; she had her
masts standing, her royal yards across, and her sails set; in which
state she had seemingly been left by her crew.

At the time of the vessel striking, Mrs. Doyley was taking coffee in the
cabin, and her infant was asleep in one of the berths, little dreaming
to what future ills his weak and helpless frame was to be exposed.

The distracted mother instantly ran on deck in alarm; and I went into
the cabin, where I saw the poor child washed out of its berth, and
crying on the floor. I took him to Mrs. Doyley, who, after that time,
for the seven long days which were occupied in making the raft, could
not by any means be persuaded to give up her dear charge.

Upon finding how the ship was situated, Captain Moore ordered the boats
to be got ready, and furnished with provisions, in order, if possible,
to save the ship’s company, and reach the island of Timor, regretting
the stern necessity which urged him to such a step in such a sea.

I once heard Captain Moore declare that he was sorry he had not made use
of his own chart, instead of one that he bought at Sidney, lest there
might be any mistake in his own.

We were in possession of four boats; the long boat, two cutters, and a
small boat called a dingy. Three of the seamen seized one of the
cutters; and two others got on board of it next morning by swimming
across the reef at the imminent peril of their lives. A little biscuit,
a ham, and a keg of water, with some carpenters’ tools, had been placed
in the boat on its leaving the ship. As soon as the two men had got into
the boat, they rowed away, and I have never heard any tidings of them
since.

The persons remaining on board the wreck now held a consultation as to
what was best to be done in this miserable state of their affairs. There
were about thirty persons, without sufficient provisions to sustain
life, much less satisfy the cravings of hunger, for a month, without any
fresh water, and with no prospect of escape from their for