Genealogical notes of Barnstable families - citizen hylbom blog

354 GENEAIX»6ICAL NOTES OF BARNSTABLE FAMILIES.
Irish sailor, neither much frozen, volunteered to attempt to obtain
assistance. They took the yawl, which had caught under the
larbord gang-board, and proceeded to the ice, which commenced
about ten rods from the brig, and thence travelled to a small
schooner, laying in the ice about half a mile to the southward,
belonging to Duxbury, and then recently from Boston, with three
or four men and a lady on board. When tliese men reached the
schooner, the living on boai-d the wreck were elated with the
prospect of immediate relief. The men did not return.
Before leaving the wreck these men had made a solemn
promise that if they reached the schooner they would procure
assistance and return. They did neither. The survivors watched
with eager eyes—they saw no movement on board the schooner
their boat was gone, and no one could now reach the ice.
Every effort was now made to convince the inhabitants on
shore that some were yet alive on the wreck. Capt. Magee tied a
handkerchief to a staff, which he waived, and at the same time all
the survivors simultaneously made a loud wail, hoping that the
sound might reach the shore.
The people of Plymouth for some hours previously, had been
aware of their situation, and made every exertion in their power,
but in vain, to reach the wreck, and afford relief. The harbor
was filled with loose cakes of ice, over and through which they
found it impossible to force a boat.
With the setting sun on Sunday night, the last ray of hope
of relief faded away and perished—some yielding to despair, and
laid down to rise no more—stout youths who had been playmates
in their native village, embraced and clasped in each other's arms,
quietly yielded up their spirits to God—middle aged men carried
in their arms boys placed in their care, till death relieved them of
the burden. To the few yet remaining who did not yield to
despair, another long and dreadful night was approaching, with no
hope of relief till after the rising of Monday morning's sun.
Wet, faint with hunger, benumbed with cold, and frost bitten
the thermometer at zero— a tattered sail, and the bleached,
stiffened corpses of half their late companions piled around, was
their only protection from the piercing wind and cutting frost.
Under such circumstances, the stoutest heart might quail.
Capt. Magee was heard to lisp only one word of complaint— he
never despaired —he cheered and encouraged his men to persevere.
Sunday night was clear, and he knew that with the thermometer at
zero none could survive if they sat still on the deck.
A piercing northwest wind rendered their sufferings intense,
and to pass away that long and dreadful night, various expedients
were resorted to. Unable to stand and keep in motion all the
time, they sat down in circles, and with their legs crossed over one
another, by constant friction, strove to keep their feet from