A few months past. I little expected to appear in print (especially on such occasions) but the frequent enquires of many curious persons (as also the design of others to publish the account without us) seem to lay me under an absolute necessity, lest others acquainted, prejudice the truth with an imperfect relation. Therefore, finding myself obliged to expose this small treatise to public view and censure, I persuade myself that what’s here recorded will be entirely credited, by all candid, ingenious spirits; for those whose kind opinion I am really solicitous.
Jasper Deane presumed that those who knew his brother would believe the account. He gently challenged those who were doubtful of John Deane’s integrity to seek out such Boon Island survivors that were presently in London and ask their opinion. Jasper Deane described the prose style he had adopted for his account as ‘smooth’ and ‘unaffected’ without ‘unnecessary enlargements… relating only matters of fact.’ He made reference to others who had read it, approved it and insisted that it be published. He praised the New Englanders that had nursed the crew of the Nottingham Galley back to health. He made mention of those who had already read his narrative, their verdict being that it was ‘novel and real’.
Despite being known as Jasper Deane’s narrative, the story was told in the first person from John Deane’s point of view. The encounter with the French privateers off the coast of Ireland was not mentioned. The narrator relayed the details of the storm and the shipwreck. In these moments John Deane was presented to the reading public as a courageous and pragmatic man, overseeing the escape from the damaged vessel but having the foresight to retrieve from his cabin what might be useful on the island. Deane’s near fatal journey from ship to shore resulting in the loss of his fingernails, the first few days on Boon Island, the attempt to build a shelter and the onset of hunger and physical decay were all described. In the middle of the narrative John Deane stood astride the chaos, an unassuming and occasionally introspective leader who led by example. Christopher Langman and company were neither named nor criticised. The initial attempts to construct a boat were relayed in relatively forensic detail. The attempt to launch the raft offered the first explicit mention of Christopher Langman. Simply referred to by his rank, Langman was mentioned in the context of volunteering to be one of the first to sail in the boat. It was a tacit acknowledgement of a positive quality in Langman, his courage. The aftermath of the boat’s destruction portrayed John Deane interpreting the event in the context of God’s providential mercy. The captain’s piety was a recurring theme in the Jasper Deane account.
The next few pages concerned themselves with the various attempts to fend off hunger and the construction of the raft. Again, Langman’s contribution was positive, hunting and killing the seagull that provided the crew of the Nottingham Galley with a much needed infusion of meat into their diet. The Swede took centre stage, supplanting both John Deane and Christopher Langman as the heroic core of the narrative as the raft was constructed. When the raft was ready, Langman’s contribution was to advise caution because of the lateness of the hour, a piece of advice that would prove correct when news of the Swede’s death reached the survivors after their rescue.
The onset of starvation, John Deane’s search for mussels and the death of the carpenter were all relayed in the pages of Jasper Deane’s narrative. John Deane was the first to move the body. He was the chairman of the moral summit as to whether or not to eat the body. He was the one to skin the corpse when the crew refused. He was always leading by example even as his health deteriorated and his resolve was tested on a daily basis. In their initial refusal to eat human flesh, Christopher Langman and his two companions were portrayed in a more favourable moral light than even John or Jasper Deane.
As the narrative neared its conclusion the effects of cannibalism took their toll on the crew who degenerated into a form of barbarism. But John Deane remained disciplined in his eating, his rationing of flesh and his piety. In the Jasper Deane account, eating human flesh did not seem to have the same effect on John Deane as it did on the rest of the crew.
The rescue unfolded with John Deane concealing cannibalism from his deliverers. After a few false dawns the men were finally transported to New England, their last meal on Boon Island being broiled human flesh. The crew of the Nottingham Galley convalesced under the care of the New Englanders. Once they were well the survivors went their separate ways. John Deane, Christopher Langman ‘and two or three more’ returned to England.
Jasper Deane presented his version of the events with a vivid clarity. He had portrayed his brother as a heroic figure, privately vulnerable; a man who secretly agonised over difficult decisions but carried them out regardless, framing everything he did in the context of God’s grace and sovereignty.
During the length of the narrative, Jasper Deane had been conspicuous in his restraint with regard to Christopher Langman, making no mention of the first mate’s grievances. Jasper Deane was saving all his venom for the postscript. At the conclusion of the document Jasper Deane finally addressed the charges made against him, his brother and Charles Whitworth. Jasper Deane admitted that he had considered not dignifying Langman’s accusations with a response but felt compelled to for the sake of ‘truth and reputation’. Jasper Deane began his formal defence by tackling the privateer incident. He claimed that John Deane did not know about the insurance. He attested that John Deane would sooner empty his ship of crew and valuables, run her aground and then set her on fire than lose her to the French. Jasper Deane turned his attention to Langman’s accusations that his brother deliberately shipwrecked the Nottingham Galley for insurance purposes: ‘One would wonder malice itself could invent or suggest anything so ridiculous… that considers the extreme hazards and difficulties suffered by the commander himself, as well as his men, where ‘twas more than ten thousand to one, but every man had perished….’
Jasper Deane stated that the insurance gained on such a venture would amount to £226 7s. Deliberately wrecking a ship and risking the death of everyone involved would not be worth the risk. Christopher Langman’s accusations made no sense. If there was any substance to the accusations of fraud, Jasper Deane demanded that his enemies prove it.
Christopher Langman’s account of the Boon Island disaster was published toward the close of 1711. It was entitled: A true account of the voyage of the Nottingham-Galley of London, John Deane Commander, from the River Thames to New-England.
There was no circumspection in Langman’s account. He began as he meant to go on with a sustained, angry assault on John Deane’s character. In his brief introduction he set out his stall. He stated that the reason the Nottingham Galley had been wrecked was the ‘captain’s obstinacy’. He accused John Deane of trying to betray the vessel to the French. Langman stated that the agenda of his version of events was to expose ‘the falsehoods in the captain’s narrative’.
In the preface to Langman’s account, the first mate’s verdict on his former captain was that John Deane had treated his crew ‘barbarously both by land and sea’. He accused John and Jasper Deane of rushing back to London to get their erroneous version of events into print before the truth could out. Langman made reference to Jasper Deane quoting those in England and New England that would attest to the veracity of the captain’s version. Langman reminded Deane and informed the public that he had been ill and held to ransom in New England, that he was obliged to confirm John Deane’s version of events for fear of being tipped out into the streets. Langman claimed that any dissenters to Deane’s version of events were ‘confined from appearing in public during our sickness,’ and ‘compelled to sign what our illness made us uncapable of understanding’. As soon as Langman and his companions were well they ‘made out affidavits here subjoined before Mr Penhallow, a Justice of the Peace, and a member of council at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, New England’. This was done in the presence of John Deane, ‘who had not the face to deny it, his character appeared in a new light, and he was covered with shame and confusion’.