The scheme

“It's set for today, John,” Paul, my friend and soon to be fellow deserter told me. “A boat will be waiting for us at West Rock, eight o'clock sharp.” It was the tenth of June 1799 and my life was about to change forever.

I arrived at the prescribed time at West Rock, along with myself and Paul there were four other men, all know to me; Steve, Adam, Ian and Martin. A boat with two oarsmen waited as promised and within half an hour we were aboard the American ship Columbia out of our uniforms and in new clothes. We were free.

Steve, at length, suggested that we cut out a whaleboat from the harbour so suspicion would not fall onto the Americans, theirs being the only ship in the vicinity. We all agreed it would be for the best and with a few supplies; pen, ink, paper, compass, charts and maps there was a quadrant too but we misplaced that, from out new allies we proceeded. By eleven o'clock that night we had secured the whaleboat, complete with some rope, five oars, twenty five pounds of bread in a bag and a thirteen gallon water cask. The garrison was in uproar, we assumed our absence had been noted and so, despite the boat being half filled with water we shoved off and made for the open sea. We lay off some distance from St Helena and waited for Columbia to retrieve us hourly.

By twelve on the second day we decided to bare off in search of the island of Ascension. Using our handkerchiefs as a make shift sail we headed north west for a spell then turned north north west. We met with a gale that lasted two days then the weather finally turned in our favour. Steve estimated that we had made a rate of ten miles an hour.

We maintained our course until the eighteenth of June, the morning of which we spotted birds but, alas, no land. At midday Steve concluded that we must have passed it, accounting it to be some eight hundred miles off St Helena, with this news we stripped off our shirts, tying our jackets to our trousers to keep us warm, and made a small sprit sail and altered course steering west by north in the hopes of finding Rio de Janeiro on the American coast. Our supplies were running low so we allowed ourselves only one ounce of bread and two mouthfuls of water per twenty four hour period, in this way we hoped to eke out our meagre provisions On the twenty sixth day of June our provisions finally ran out. That night while taking my turn to steer I recalled stories of people eating their shoes and so with a sharpened nail I proceeded to cut a piece from my boot. It was soaked in sea water so I spat it out, not to be deterred I sliced some off my inner sole and, after eating a little, cut the rest up to distribute amongst my friends.

On the first day of July our luck finally changed, Steve used a gaff from the boat to kill a dolphin. We tore into it, hanging it up to dry, by four o'clock we ate some of it and found it agreeable. This lasted us until the fourth of July by which time we had consumed it, bones and all. Some of us proposed we scupper the boat and put an end to our misery but Paul and Martin disagreed, saying God would provide us with more food. They won out and we continued on our course.

Thirty six hours later, on the fifth day of June, Paul suggested we draw lots. One of us would sacrifice himself so that the others could live, that we had not turned on each other earlier is a testament of our comradeship. I am touched that no one baulked or argued with this idea, I myself saw it as the most selfless act of kindness any of us could do, in battle we would not have hesitated to throw ourselves in harms way to save a friend and to my mind this was no different an act. It was agreed that Steve, who two day's earlier had been afflicted with the spotted fever would be exempt and therefore it was he who wrote out the lots and placed them in his hat. We each drew a number and without looking at it placed it into a pocket. After some debate we decided that the number five would be the one to make the sacrifice. It was Paul's number. Without fuss he asked God to forgive him and with a sharpened nail cut himself in three places, his foot, his hand and his wrist. In about fifteen minutes Paul was gone.
His sacrifice kept us alive.

Early on the eighth day of July I noticed the colour of the sea change, by the time the sun was up we had spotted land. The surf was so heavy we tried to turn the boat's head into it but we didn't have the strength left even for that and so our small vessel overturned. Myself, Steve and Ian made it to shore, Martin and Adam did not.

The rest your Lordships know, we were taken prisoner until the locals learnt we were English not French, we were released and stayed with the governor and food was provided though we remained lock jawed until the twenty third day of July, such was our condition. I endeavoured to give myself up at the first opportunity to use my suffering as a warning to others garrisoned on St Helena not to attempt so mad a scheme again. Whatever this court of enquiry decides I have done that. Paul's sacrifice was not in vain, nor now will mine be.


Historical note:


This is based on a true story, from the account John Brown gave to the court of enquiry in December 1801.

A whaleboat was a small open air vessel mainly using oars but with a collapsible mast.

A gaff was a pole with a hook, used for whaling, hence it being in the whaleboat.

An ounce of bread is the equivalent of half a slice of sliced bread.


(Word Count: 1052)