The Daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1845-1850, 1850-08-22

| there was not ship 10 be SEEM OF thirteen
that had rode in pride and strength the even.
ing before, nothing was to be discovered bu,
fragments, and all that mustered of captains
and crews was forty-sx men. MIR Vans. the
two brolhers Elliot, and myself, were all that
escaped from the wreck of the John Adams.
| we built some little huts upon the lonely bar
rem Isle with the wreck which was thrown on
shore, and several chests having also come
to hand we repaired the boats and sent par
lies to the mainland to shoot creature ofthe
deer species, Which the men called ginakers
Ii'ey were never very successful, however,
and ole OF our boats, with five of these hunters,
having been lost in crossing the strait which
divides Penguin Island from the continent, the
expeditions were discontinued, and we had
10 subsist as we best could upon the livers of
The penguins; which were very numerous and
elsily killed. Ed. ar and William Elliot lived
IN the hut with me. and never did two lads sit
down in such hopeless desolateness with so
little apparent depression. They were cheer
tll and even light-hearted, although it was
TO evident that some regret was Juggling at
lhelr healf strings and clouding iheirpeace and
nope. They smiled when we sat down to our
unPalatable and constantly recurring meal,
ana sometimes would try to joke upon our sit
uatlon, but would now and again see tear
steal INTO Edgars eye as it would rest
regrefiIlly upon the fading face and weaken
ing form Of his young accomplishing brother,
and would see him tremble with emotion as
some thought that had no tongue came over
his troubled brain. We used to 20 out togeth-
er TO the shores Of the island and look wistfui.
Iy TO seward for some ship that might bear
US thence, and we would dream and specu-
late, IN the fullness of our lope, until the re
alty OF our situation would vanish, and we
would forget that we were shipwrecked lone
" men on the shores of a barren and desolate
land. AT last the slow consuming fires of fe-
yer laid down William Elliot on his hard gu
ano couch, and it required the frequent grasp
lngs OF his burning hand, and the beseeching
gances OF his eye, to still the frantic cries and
stem the tears of Edgar when he found his
younger brother unable TO rise.
Live, live, my broiher' he cried, live to
save my spirit from undying agony and to
BLISS my mothers sight again. All Tom Ben
son p! he exc aimed, turn ng to me, is eyes
swimming in moisture. you see in us the on
ly children of our mother, aud she is Wild
dow. His frame quivered as hesobbingly ar.
tlculated these words, and he lay over MS dy-
ing brother and bathed his cheeks with his
tears and clasped him in his arms, as if afraid
to lose him. William, ii was my represent
tahons OF naval romance. that induced YOU to
leave home; you never would have deserted
my mother unless, and if you die l will be
your murderer M
No, no, no. feebly muttered the suffering
boy, While he too wept my own brother,
Edgar! fear it was l that encouraged you.'
| Day succeeded day, and stilIno relief came;
| night after night flung her dark shadow over
the lonely dwelling place of our fears, and yet
no ship answered our beaconfires A blue
dull blank was above us, aud then it changed
10 black. The same monotonous rel of the
waters inshore fell upon our ears by day and
night; the same barren gloomy scene met our
eyes as we looked to the west. Burthe angel
OF death found US out, solitary though we were,
and he often struck down our comrades around
US, as if to madden our already quickened
sense of mortality. We buried our comrade
amongst The remains Of long forgotten ages of
birds, and we turned silently away, ay, almost
indiffereuty, after each funeral, for we had
latterly ceased TO hope for escape from this
charnel.house, this golgotha of the ocean.-
Poor Bill Elliot, his young and vigorous con-
stitution wore away but slowly, and it would
have rent the heart OF the most flinty 10 have
sat by him and listened to his rawlings. Home
and his mother-green fields and streams
the manse in which he was born-his brother
tile seagand shipwreck--all mingled in. his
dreams and whispered strange confused tales
into his burning brain. Never did lake re-
fleet the hues of a changing sky, and the al
ternate play of clouds and sunbeams, SO per-
tectly as did The face of Edgar tighten or dark
en- in unison with the changes on Williams.
He watched him with painful anxiety, moist
ening his lips with the brackish water which
was brought from the hollow of rock, and
covered him with the old piece of sail which
served for his curtain when alive and finally
for his shroud. All, if ever iraternal affection
was manifested in its purity, in its transpar-
ent self sacrificing holmes, it was manifested
by that poor sailor boy
One morning poor Edgar had just rushed
out TO fetch some water and was left alone
with the boy; MIR Vans having made hut for
himself, lived apart from US. Our boats had
been carried away by some of our compan-
ions, and the half of those left had already d.
ed, SO that with an approaching winter and
failing strength, the majority of my comrades
were in all but dispair. was well in body,
and had become sort of acclimaied to this st.
Helena of our hopes. Therefore watchedthe
sharpening features Of the poor lad with some
thing like composure, when with a wild shout
Edgar rushed into the hut, and lifting upt the
faded frame of poor Bill staggered with him
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