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Codes of Survival -Scripts - a series of short factionalized stories based
on historical events in the Subantarctic Islands written by Lloyd Godman
to accompany the exhibition and installation - 1993 - © Lloyd Godman
Codes of
Survival - Scripts
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1866 - The General Grant
About an hour after sighting land, which the captain had assumed
to be a small Island off the Auckland group, there was another more larger and foreboding mass of great black cliffs that
affronted us.
They rose sheer, towering above us for at least 1200 ft by reckoning. Huge bolts of black rock gathered from the ocean and rose in a wall of impenetrable defence in our path. With failing steerage as the breeze died to a breathless lull, the barque
creaked in unease at her closeness to the rocks on the somewhat choppy sea.
As we watched from the deck, it seemed a certainty that we would collide at sometime and then, within half an hour at about 11.30 p.m., there was quite a sharp crack from above as the "Grant" stuck the cliffs. The jib boom was carried away as it appeared it become stuck in a crag, lodging, then in a crack and a shudder of the ship tearing free to remain on the bluffs. There were screams, women were wailing and young children shrieking, in a din that struck terror among the stoutest of hearts.
The ship then fell astern uncontrolled, to an extended point
of rock that rose in a panicle high aloft. There was another
crash, this time more violent, as the spanker-boom and rudder
were carried away in a crippling blow that sent rocks spilling from the precipice in a barrage of splashes as they fell to the water or bashed into the side of the ship. In the dark, it was hard to tell exactly what the situation was, but as the disbelieving passengers gathered now in small whispering huddles around the decks,
the drift dragged the hull unyieldingly towards the entrance of a
great black opening in this seemingly impervious wall. It became obvious we were entering a great cave as the flickering fingers of light from the fire lanterns, reflected in an
eerie luminesce
from the walls and roof. All night she drifted further in
surges, up inside the lengths of this great cavern as if
embodied by the womb of the earth itself, or swallowed by a great whale of stone.
The quiet huddles and whispers that had developed since
entering the cave, had by now turned to a quiet but high anxiety
as the echoes in the grotto bounced with the dim reflections from surface to surface. The lap, lap lapping of the waters up the side
of the cave walls, and then, every so often the puffing
explosion of great breaths of escaping air as the air
bubbles trapped under a rock ledge burst to the surface.
The slithering lengths of kelp attached firmly to the walls,
swirling with the heave around the hull. The drip, drip dripping of the water from the damp roof above. The gentle creak of the ship timbers. All this mixed with the troubled voices, made for a unearthly sleepless night.
Suddenly there was a loud crack, as the foretop mast hit the
cave roof dislodging large pieces of rock that fell down upon
the ship in a rash of devastating crashes. The massive chunks of rock had stoved in the forecastle, leaving gapping holes
amid the debris of smashed timber. With this the
mood among the people changed still further,
there was panic, screams, yelling that over rode the
earlier echoes. Before this, it had felt as though this great
opening had offered a strange protection as a womb to the
child, a burrow to the hare, but now it was as though we were trapped inside a huge stone Leviathan, and would surely die. From here, each knew the ship was damned to destruct and in hysterical alarm the prize possessions from their kits below
were searched for. If we were to be ship wrecked on this
desolate island, what would we need? Three men and
myself had hauled the ship's medical chest up from below
while the crew were assembling a store of food
tools and blankets.
If there was some escape in the morning through the
longboat and other small craft aboard there just may be a
chance to retrieve some of these essential items. But beside
the three with the medical chest, were miners fresh from the
fields in Australia, from the fields of Ballarat and Bendigo,
with their fortunes of gold wrapped in blankets and tied to their backs  . There were women and children, seamen that worked
the boat, the cooks, rich and poor, all in terror. It seemed the night would never end, as the ship rocked in a
bounce on the lap of the water, slowly moving further
and further inside the tunnel like cave.
The crew had been taking soundings and there
remained a constant twenty-five fathoms under her stern as she struck forward, which would at least kept us afloat. Eventually, there was a faint glow of pink that turned to gold and then faded with all promise to a dull grey, at the entrance of the cave which heralded the beginning of a new day. This we had all been
told, was the time for us to abandon the ship and
attempt a landing in the smaller craft on another part of the island. As the glow brightened it was clear we had troubles unseen
in the dark. The chop on the surface had turned to definite
swells that entered the cave and ran in a wild surge along the
walls, lifting the hull, before passing us and crashing on into
the end of the cave a further 100 to 200 yards inside
this enormous cavern.
However, the men had erected a boom over the stern and
quite soon the boats were lowered. We watched as the
pinnace was dropped down first, and three able seamen were
sent with stout lines to attach them in an attempt to lay a kedge
for hauling out the smaller craft. Once done, the gig was put to use and with some joisting on the growing swells, the chief officer,
three seaman and one brave passenger cleared the entrance of the cave. We felt much better at this success until there was a brittle crack that sounded the snapping of the top mast which had been jammed on the cave roof for the past hour as the new tide
pushed its way upward. It was this that had jammed hard
onto the roof holding the ship fast, and
now to our dismay, she was free to drift
deeper inside. There were shrill confused shouts from below
that signalled a strong leak as the hull had opened and a torrent of water poured in. As the mast had broken, it had also
pushed a gapping hole in the bottom of the hull. There was real panic from here on, with the ship now taking on water.
Children were crying in the arms of frightened mothers, brave
men at the departure were now fearful in expression. The
captain and crew were shouting in an echoed din that
confused their messages. Chaos reigned. It was clearly day
by now, the tide was beginning to gain all the while, as the
wind rose and the swell pushed ever higher up the
walls of the cavern.
They were lowering Mrs Jewell, who had been an admirable stewardess on the voyage, for she was the only woman to be
coaxed into attempting to gain the boats below. Slowly down to a boat she swung, when there was a lurch, she lost her grasp and tumbled into the cold water with a splash. In an instant her loyal husband had dived over the edge and had grasped her in tow towards the waiting craft. She was along side the small craft
bobbing in the water for a few moments with her husband beside her, before being hauled into the safety of the boat. There they
sat, cold and wet before they were joined by two other men
that had also jumped into the water to help with her rescue.
We had missed their leap as our attention was else where,
being quite close to Mr Jewell.
As they sat there, we cheered them.
Our regard now turned to the seas overwhelming the
poop of the "General Grant". They were sweeping in
through the entrance of the cavern, and running straight down the tunnel to break across the ship in such a manner as to free the
long boat afloat. In reflex there was a mad scramble as a dozen
or so frightened persons scampered aboard. I was left with the screaming wife and two children of one wretch who had made
it on board and had made not an effort to drag them along
with him. All the craft then made a desperate dash for the
open sea, for the pinnace had at least 40 crammed aboard,
while the rest of us were left behind on the
sinking ship, among them the captain.
There was more chaos when we saw the long boat swamped at
once by a large wave. Perhaps there was three rescued by
the other craft, but we heard the screams for help as others
drowned in the clear coldness of the waters. At this point
there was a great sweeping crest that washed the ship from
end to end and the only choice for me was the loose hatch
cover that floated in the foam beside me. In another crash
of white spray, and before I could find a thought I was floated
free and far up inside the cave a way from the hull. The sudden coldness had taken my breath and I gasped deeper and deeper
for air I could not find. Beside me was all manner of debris,
floated off the decks. On the mizzen-mast clinging like rats,
was the captain and a single seaman,
while far out through the entrance I could make out the bold stroking as the boats headed off out into the ocean. There seemed little chance for me, although I had floated right to the end of the cavern and found solid ground under my feet. I remember the
round boulders were slippery as I hauled myself up to the
dry rooks in front of me, and collapsed panting with
exhaustion from the cold.
When I regained my senses, after a time could hardly guess at, I realized I was alone; inside an enormous vaulted dome that
formed the head of the cavern. Beside me the cold rocks
and the debris of our sunken ship, now little more than
two masts projecting from the water. There were the bodies of five poor souls, and that of a child
perhaps five years, being thrown by the surf across the
round rocks. I was weak, cold and I shivered uncontrolled as my clothes clung wet to my wretched skin and my head raced with uncontrolled thoughts. After some uncomfortable effort,
I managed to drag what bodies I could to higher ground. It was a pitiful sight, the child I had seen not the day before playing on the deck with a joyous cheek and all had now been battered by the action of the waves so that I could hardly recognize them with a glance. There were other items floating in the surges that
crashed up onto the rocks, and it occurred that I may
find items for my survival.
How many of the boats had reached safety was unclear,
but further out, there could have been evidence from both the pinnace and the long boat among the mass of entangled wreckage, so these also may have been over come by the seas. Across the water, I could make out at least 15 bodies, though there
could have been as many as 40 if both these craft had
been wrecked on the way out to the ocean. At the end of the day, with increasing difficulty, I had retrieved
wet blankets, a wide selection of coloured bottles that contained assorted mixtures, and had broken free from the
medical chest somehow surviving the trip to shore.
There was even a box of wet biscuits, strips of canvas and
lengths of rope, a great supply of broken timbers strewn
across the rocks, though no matches. The night was
coming and in preparation, I constructed a shelter from broken timbers and the strips of canvas, as far from the shore and the crashing waves as I could.
During the night, the roar in the cave became deafening, and
sleep was an impossible thought for the second night, but as the
light crept into the cave, I could see huge swells pouring in the entrance and running several hundred yards surging along the
walls before crashing violently into the shore in
front of me. It was much more violent
than the day before. The great round boulders were being rolled
in a hideous grinding sound as the waves swept in and then
sucked back out once more tossing them ever round. The air hung with the rain like thickness of sea spray and I could hardly see the open entrance of the cave. There was more ships debris high up
the shingle bank that formed the protection between me and the surging turmoil of wave.
The wet biscuit tasted terrible as I sat there shivering, watching
this terrifying display contemplating my slim chance of survival. There was no water, and little food other than this wet salted
biscuit. It was certain that I had been abandoned by the others, presumed drowned. And even if I was known to be alive, there was no chance of a boat entering the cave for sometime with the tremendous fury
of this storm. It seemed I would slowly die, probably of dehydration here in this enormous tomb. There were the others
dead on the rocks below me, perhaps they were lucky.
Perhaps I at least owed them a burial while I was still in
the land of the living.
I found a further six bodies, including two children and a women with in reach, while there were many others among the
rocks and seas that I dared not venture
to retrieve. Each I laid out side by side
and constructed piles of round rocks to cover them. At the head
of each placed a makeshift wooden cross I had managed to construct from the wreckage. It was only a token. As I moved
the body of one man, a handsome soul I had talked with on the boat, I noticed he had a blanket rolled and tied to his back. My curiosity caught the better of me and I had to unroll the blanket. There, in the centre, was a heavy canvas bag. Inside the unmistakable shine of gold, these miners had died with
their fortune. I buried it with the man as it seemed to have no further purpose in this strange world.
This had taken most of the day, and as the
light began to fade out side the cavern, it was then
that I laid myself out in a hollow beside these others,
and one by one swallowed the acrid contents of the
many medical bottles washed
ashore the day before. Though they had lost
their labels, and I could only guess at the
contents of the greeny
blue coloured glass jars,
I knew one or all would kill me quickly,
and I could soon lie with the others in
eternal sleep,
ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
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