So foolhardy a scheme

The six men, John Paul, Ian, Steve, Martin and Adam sat on the rocky shore. Any moment now a boat would carry them to freedom. It was the promise the Columbia’s captain had offered them, escape from this accursed island, St Helena; little more than a rock that may, at some time, be of use to the admiralty. In exchange they would join the American navy. John was still sceptical, it would be a tremendous risk on the part of the Americans, theirs was the only ship nearby, it would not take long for the commander of the garrison to realize they had played a part in the escape. Maybe they would realize that and change their minds.

“Land ahoy?” The call brought John back to full alertness.

“St. Helena?” Escape from their mundane duties was no loner just possible, it was becoming reality, Ian called out.

“Columbia, welcome aboard.” The voice said, his accent strong.


“Welcome aboard, gentleman,” the captain said, “today is the start of your new life, recall it well gentlemen, the tenth day of June; for it is the day you became Americans. With your skills I’m sure you will do well in our young navy, lord knows we need trained hands.”

“Aye, sir,” they said in unison.

“I’ve been thinking, sir, will your ship not be subject to suspicion?” John asked.

“We can be well away at sea before they know you’re gone.”

“True, but they have your number. You must be aware of the stop and search policy the king’s ships use, especially on your own ships,” Paul added.

“Every king’s ship will stop you now as soon as you make your number,” Ian said, “unless we cut out one of those whaleboats in the harbour. They will assume we took that and made for Ascension.”

“Could you do it?”

“We’re sailors, sir, it’s what we do.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll have a boat take you back to the jetty with some supplies, we’ll pick you up as soon as we can. I am guessing it would make sense for us to sail in the opposite direction than Ascension.”

“It would, sir,” Martin agreed.

It didn’t take long to pull back to the jetty, beside an isolated whaleboat, half filled with water to keep the seams from separating in the heat. With a brief wave goodbye the Columbia’s longboat began its arduous journey back to the ship.

“I’ll see about getting the boat, Ian. You take two of the others and see what food and water supplies you can get, just enough to convince them we intend to go it alone,” Paul ordered.

“Martin, John, you’re with me. Lets go raiding!”

“Don’t take too long. We’ll meet you as close to the shore as we dare.”

“It didn’t take long to sever the crude anchor and untie the small craft. Paul could feel things brush against his legs under the water but a brief search yielded nothing with which to bail out the water. He could see Ian and his men on the beach by the jetty. It was now or never. “Cast us off, Steve.”

“We found a sack of bread and a thirteen gallon barrel of water, it should be enough to fool them.” Ian said, clambering aboard.

“We had best get going, from the sounds of it they have noticed us missing.” John said, taking hold of one of the oars.

With Paul at the tiller and the rest pulling on an oar, they made for the open sea, once a safe distance from St. Helena, Paul called a halt. “We should try and rest, take turns looking out for Columbia.”

It was a restless night, each taking an hour of official watch but none wanted to miss sighting Columbia, they were sure it would be there any moment.

The sun was at it’s zenith on the second day when the small group realized that they were on their own.

“At least the boats dried out.” Ian said.

The laughter was more out of tension than humour but it eased them all the same.

“We can rig a sail with handkerchiefs. It will save us rowing the whole way,”

“Okay head north west for now Adam,” Paul said.

Martin said, “Looks like we are making for the island of Ascension after all”

“That’s about eight hundred miles,” Paul said, handing over his handkerchief.

“With luck Columbia will be looking for us along the way.”


“Wind is picking up, it will help,” John said. “besides, what other options have we?”
He asked, taking over the tiller from Adam.

“Not many,” Paul agreed, “take us north, north west.”

“Aye, sir,” the response was automatic.

Paul laughed, “I’m no captain yet, lad.”

“You will be, Paul, once we rejoin the ship,” John said, it had been Paul keeping them together these last two days.

The gale hit them abruptly. “I could use a hand keeping her on course,” John bellowed above the wind. He was soaked through with spray, every lurch of the whaleboat seemed likely to be her last.

Ian grabbed the tiller in front of John’s hands and added his weight to the effort.

The gale lasted for two days before finally dying out, it left them all tired and wet but with high spirits. Which raised even more when Paul estimated that the small craft had travelled at about ten miles an hour.

“Birds to larboard.” John called, by his reckoning it was the eighteenth day of June, worry had begun to set in.

“No land.” Ian finally put words to what they all believed.

“We must have passed Ascension,” Paul said, looking again at his calculations.

“If we use our shirts we could rig a sprit sail,” Martin said, stripping his off.

“We can make for Rio de Janeiro, if we miss it we will still find shore,” Adam said, handing over his own shirt.

“Our rations are limited,” Steve said, “ but if we ration them severely enough we should make it.”

“How severely?”

“An ounce of bread and two mouthfuls of water,” Steve said, “It’s enough to survive on, just.”

“Head west by north then, John,” Paul said.

John obligingly changed tack, almost immediately the crude sprit sail added it’s speed.

“Try this,” Martin said, handing a bit of bamboo round the boat, “It eases the thirst a little if not the hunger.”

The bread ran out three days later, conversation was at a minimum, each man conserving his strength for steering the boat. John looked at the makeshift log, the twenty sixth day of June, had it only been sixteen days? It felt so much longer. Hunger gnawed at him, the ounce of bread seemed like a feast to his mind now. Using a sharp nail he hacked off a piece of his boot, recalling stories of shipwrecked fellows doing it, he spat it out, the salt water had soaked in. Not to be deterred he took the boot off and worked off a chunk from the inside. It was hard going but he managed to eat a piece. “Here, it’s not much, but it helps,” John said, handing it round to his friends.

The rest followed his example and for the next few days, inner soles kept them going.

“Wahoo…” Steve’s voice woke them all.

“Ship?” Paul was the first to speak, his voice cracking slightly.

“Not that good, but I have food,” Steve said, struggling with the gaff they’d inherited with the boat. “I could use a hand.”

“A dolphin, can we eat it?” Ian asked.

“Beats nothing, we don’t even have boot leather left.” Steve pointed out.

“Dry some out first, as Ian said, it could do us more harm than good,” Paul cautioned.

“It’s the first of July, not April, it cannot be some cosmic joke, God has sent it in our need,” Martin said.

“Let’s just dry a little first,” John said, tearing into the carcass with the sharpened nail.

The meat was agreeable, in that nobody died from it. The bones and offal proved harder to eat but desperation was a good motivator.

“What day is it?” Steve asked.

“Third of July, how are you feeling?” John replied.

“Easier,” Steve said, he’d had the spotted fever for two days now.

“Just rest up, there is nothing we can do right now,” John said, the food was gone again, the entire carcass.

“Perhaps we should just admit defeat and scupper the boat, surely drowning offers a swifter end than starvation,” Ian said.

“Sounds good to me,” Adam said.

John and Steve nodded.

“God helped us once, he will do so again, you just have to trust him,” Martin said.

“I agree, let us give Him a few days longer,” Paul said.

“Let’s hope you are right.” Ian said.

“It has been a long time since we have eaten,” Paul said two days later, “what I’m about to propose is hard but I believe it is better than scuppering the boat and killing us all. One of us needs to give his life to save the rest.”

“I’ll do it.” Five voices all spoke at once, without hesitation.

Only one is needed,” Paul said, stopping himself from adding ‘for now,’ “I suggest drawing lots, Steve you have been ill so you will be exempt. I will nominate you to oversee things.”

“I should be in it with you, I’m fine now,” Steve insisted.

“We cannot risk you infecting us,” Adam said.

“Anyone who doesn’t wish to be party to this, speak now, there is no shame in it,” Paul said, looking at Martin.

“I can think of no more an unselfish act of kindness than to give my life for each of you,” Martin said.

“I would lay down my life for you all in battle, this is no different in my mind,” John said. The others nodded.

“We are in agreement then,” Paul said, “Steve write out five numbers on separate pieces of paper then let us all pick a number, do not look at it yet, just put it in your pocket.”

“What number gets to make the sacrifice?” Adam asked, once each had picked one.

“It is the fifth day of July,” Ian said.

“And five of us in the lottery,” John said.

“As good a number as any,” Paul said, “we agree on five then.”

Each man opened his piece of paper.

“It is me,” Paul said, “forgive me my lord,” he added softly, then without further hesitation used the sharpened nail to cut himself in three places, his foot, his hand and finally his wrist.

In fifteen minutes, Paul was gone.

Two days later they finally found land. The headway was so strong though that it tipped the small craft. Ian, Steve and John looked out at the water, weary from their swim and ordeal. There was no sign of Martin and Adam.

“Thank you, Paul,” John whispered as the relief flooded his body, he had survived.


Historical note:


This is based on a true story, from the account John Brown gave to the court of enquiry in December 1801. On landing they were taken prisoner and later released when it was found out they were English. Such was the extent of their ordeal it took until the 23rd of July for them to be able to eat properly.

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.

(total word count 1940)