Roger Weston - The True Tale of Castaway Daniel Foss

The True Tale of Castaway Daniel Foss: A Short Story

By Roger Weston

Copyright 2011 by Weston Publishing Enterprises

Alexandria, Virginia, September 2, 1809

Standing at the rail of the brig Negociator , Daniel Foss pulled his stocking cap down over his short blond hair and shoved his hands into his pockets. He sucked in a deep breath of crisp sea air. He had signed the articles in the capacity of Mariner and now he thought about what lay ahead of him. He didnt especially like the idea of a sealing voyage, but this was the best job he could find. At least he was going to sea. He gazed out at the horizon and hummed one of his favorite hymns.

Master James Nicoll stepped up beside him and put a hand on Fosss shoulder. Glad to have you aboard, Mr. Foss. You picked the right boat. Well do very well. The captain grinned widely and squeezed his unshaven chin with a calloused hand. Better stow your gear. Were casting off shortly.

In the dim crew accommodation, Foss tossed his bag on an empty bunk. When the shadows darkened, Foss turned and saw the black shape of a tall, muscular man standing in the doorway blocking the light. The man stepped in and offered a hand. His face was one of great strength and resolution, his eyes sad.

Im Doctor Haggard, he said. This is my first time to sea, but Ive been told theres nothing better for a mans health then fresh sea air.

They made small talk, and the doctor rambled on proudly about his gem of a wife, whom hed met on a house call to a remote farm. He bragged about his three young children, but then his voice took on a serious tone. We lost a son last year in an accident. Then earlier this year my wife got sick and barely made it. I hate to leave her alone for so long, but I need to earn a stake to pay off our debts and start my own practice.

They talked a while longer, and the doctor showed Foss a locket with a photo of his lovely bride. As Foss was leaving, he looked back. The doctor had opened the locket again and was studying the photo with lonely eyes.

On October 20 th the Negociator touched the Cape of Good Hope and they set their course for the Friendly Islands. As they proceeded north, the weather got extremely cold, and the men dressed appropriately.

On November 25, the Negociator sailed into a severe snow storm. Icicles formed on all the brigs sails and rigging. At midnight, a gale struck, and at two-thirty the brig struck an iceberg. With the prospect of an icy doom thrust upon them, the crew fell into shock and terror beyond description. As the brig began to sink, they threw whatever supplies they could find into the long boat. Then they abandoned the brig, thrusting their fate upon the stormy sea. Drifting hundreds of miles from land, in a cold climate, Daniel Foss realized the pitiful state of the men. A dark gloom fell over him as he saw that in the panic, some of them had abandoned ship without jackets, hats or shoes. Foss wore only a thin jacket and a pair of trousers and he shivered in the icy wind and frigid sea spray. Five minutes after they pushed off from the ship, she sunk leaving only a stark seascape of rolling waves.

By morning the storm had begun to play out. The crew looked over their stock of provisions for the first time. As they realized how scant their supplies were, some of their faces began to sag, and Foss also fell into gloominess as he looked over his fellow crew members. The limited stock of foods wouldnt feed all these sailors for long. The provisions included beef, half a barrel of pork, a barrel of water, and a small keg of beer.

Im putting each man on a strict allowance of provision and water, the captain said, and every man will do his share of time at the oars as well as bailing. Well make it to land in due time.

Like most of the men, Foss was just as eager to row as he was to bail. Their lives depended as much on these activities as they did on food. And the exercise helped him maintain a little more body heat. Unfortunately the captains plan fell short. Over the next nine days, Foss attended thirteen burials at sea. Of the eight survivors, four suffered from severe frostbite and couldnt even stand on their feet. For water, the men chipped chunks of ice from a solid block and dissolved these crystals in their mouths.

Just keep rowing, the captain said. Keep your spirits up. Once we reach a warmer latitude, well be alright.

As the days passed, Foss prayed over five more funerals. On January 10, they entered a more temperate zone. Only three of them remainedFoss, the captain, and Doctor Haggard. Foss felt sadness that his other companions hadnt made it.

If only they could have held on a little longer, Foss said. Everything would have been alright.

They were fine sailors, the captain said. Id hoped to bring every one of them back alive. Its gonna be tough to inform the families.

How soon till we find land? Foss asked.

The captain shrugged. Just keep a southwest course. Weve got a lot of voyage ahead of us, but well do just fine.

Doctor Haggard withdrew the locket hed shown Foss on the first day. He opened the flap and gazed at it for several minutes with his deep-blue eyes. If it werent for my dear wife, Id have never had the strength to last this long. He looked at Foss. Im gonna make it, you know, for her.

Although theyd partaken sparingly and suffered constant hunger, on January 20, they ate their last pound of pork. Foss now began to realize that death by starvation lay ahead. For five days they struggled to catch a fish or anything at all, but failed. Finally they cut their shoes into strips, and, after soaking the pieces in fresh water, they devoured them hungrily.

The captain said what theyd all been thinking. Gentlemen, as things are, none of us stand any chance of survival. Were doomed men. We have no choice but to cast lots between us to determine who should die for the sustenance of the others.

Foss nodded as if the captain had just suggested they cast lots for the last helping of pork. Then it struck him as odd that he could resort to such extremities with such ease. He reflected that famine frequently led men to the commission of the most horrible excesses. Insensible on such occasions to the appeals of nature and reason, man assumed the character of beast of prey. He was deaf to every shadow of civilized restraint and coolly meditated the death of his fellow man.

Foss cut a small piece of his jacket into three small detached pieces, one of which was marked with a brown thread. He put the pieces in his stocking cap. With trembling hands the three men drew their lots. The doctor drew the marked one. He sighed and kissed his wedding ring, but after that he appeared perfectly resigned to his fate.

My friends, he said, I am a native of Norfolk, Virginia, where I have a wife and three children living. All I ask is that should it please God to deliver either of you from your perilous situation that you would acquaint my unfortunate family with my wretched fate.

I put my honor upon it, Sir, the captain said, his eyes moist.

I wont forget, Foss said.

The doctor dropped his piece of material into the water. Good. I would now like a few moments to prepare myself for death.

The captain nodded.

Foss looked away.

The doctor spent several moments in fervent prayer for himself, his family and for Foss and the captains speedy deliverance. He pressed his wedding ring against his cheek for several moments with his eyes pinned shut, then he lowered his hand.

Im ready to die, he said, looking Foss and the captain in the eyes. He held out his left wrist and made the incision. Foss and the captain caught and drank the blood which streamed from the wound.

The two men soon had the satisfaction of seeing the doctor expire without a struggle. They cut their unfortunate companion into small slices and dried the flesh as well as they could in the sun. Neither of them hesitated to take their first bites of human meat. Over the next twelve days the doctors flesh sustained them. Rain came often enough to provide the water they needed to stay alive. They collected water by wringing their soaked clothes into their bailing bucket. These limited rations of food and water hardly sustained them given their comfortless condition. They grew so feeble that they could barely stand up on their skinny legs. Their wet clothes continually chaffed at their skin until friction sores rose.