There are all sorts of good reasons why St. Paul's has never yet been searched. One very good reason is that there are a few thousand bleak miles of sea to negotiate; eternal gales to contend with, a crew to pay, and provisions to find. Furthermore, you must take water with you, or content yourself with condensed water. Another item on the catalogue of wants would be the wherewithal to burn off the grass that at present very successfully and completely hides the openings to every one of the caves.
Why didn't we search whilst we were there: For the simple reason that we were far too busy keeping body and soul from parting company. In later years I did get one expedition together, and it was only by the slimmest chance that it fell through. We had the ship, and we had the very necessary capital (which is of some importance). Like many other dreams, it didn't materialise, but I still in my dreams see that smart little schooner anchored in that lagoon, loading up with gold, jewels, and all imaginable treasures, that forever live in the mind of the treasure hunter.
Having got down to the edge of the water, we started in to work our way round towards the huts, which by now, we could see quite clearly. Here and there we came across boiling springs, amongst the rocks, which showed that something down under was still alive and warm.
Bill, my cousin, tried the water in the springs, and said it was fresh. I just took his word for it, as I was a bit too excited to be particularly thirsty — though that added joy was to come, and pretty soon.
Arrived at the huts, the first cry from the fellows already there was, "Have you found water?" I said, "Yes," and was asked to show them were it was. So off back I went, but I suppose half an hour had elapsed between times. Anyhow, we journeyed off for the springs, climbing over the rocks from pool to pool; but they were all salt; salt as Lot's wife.
What had happened, I found out later, was, that between the time of our coming round the lagoon, and taking these other chaps back again, the tide had risen and flowed into the pools.
Others said they had found water on top of the island — a small well.
By next day most of us had become pretty desperate, and it behoved us to call up a volunteer party, to shin up those two thousand odd feet with oilskins, sea boots, and any other receptacles that would hold water. Fortunately the north point had a gradual ascent, and afforded some decent foothold.
The water party was led by an able seaman, named Bartle Macintyre, one of the finest sailors I have ever met, and one that nothing ever daunted. Actually, he made the party climb that cliff, with only six short intervals of rest. Arriving at the top, I, for one, was just about all-in. But after one last spell, we started the tramp to find this well. The going now was not too bad, and we made good time, though, as far as I was concerned, things were getting hazier and hazier, and I was rapidly losing interest. I could see the fellows walking ahead, but they seemed a mighty way off. I was long past speaking; in fact my tongue was just completely dried up, and my lips were split in two or three pieces. I remembered quite well one of the chaps coming back and relieving me of the pair of oilskin pants, which I was carrying, tied at the bottom to fill up with water.
I pointed to a slight depression I had noticed, and two or three of us went down to see if by chance, there was any water, and found the ground fairly moist. They called the others back. We tore up the damp ground, squeezing the mud into the palms of our hands and drinking it. Although it was just mud, and barely wet enough to moisten our lips, it was as nectar to our parched throats. Very soon we all took the trail again. I knew, quite well, why they had taken these oilskins from me, and I realised that once I stumbled and fell down (which seemed quite likely) I should not get up again. I was conscious, clearly conscious, and remembered every incident; how the fellows gradually faded into the distance, finally, I saw them no more. But I still kept trudging on and on, determined to keep up on end as long as I could. After a time I suddenly brought up with a start, for in front of me, I saw a pool of beautifully clear water.
"Ha," I thought, "now, this is a mirage. Now in what books have I read about mirages?" and I stood there trying to recollect a book, or the name of an author that had dealt with these mirages, for I was fully convinced that that was what I saw. Then, as I gazed at this pool of water, which also seemed to be getting a bit hazy, I imagined I could see men lying down around it, and in an inconsequent way, I considered that just another strange phenomenon. Then I further noticed that they seemed to be actually drinking. "Well," I thought, "I have read about a mirage, where you could see water, but never where you could actually observe men going through all the motions of drinking." Still I gazed, making no effort whatever to reach the water, for I was stone wall sure that it was absolutely nothing but a mirage. Then it seemed as if I could even recognise some of the faces. "Why that is Bartle Macintyre," I thought. Then at last it struck me. Can it be real? and I bent down to try and touch the water. Sure enough, it was a real pool of pure clear crystal water. Instantly, I tried to scoop it up in my hands and drink, but I might as well have tried to lift the water with a sponge; my hands just absorbed it. then I remembered a quart bottle in my pocket, which had been overlooked when they relieved me of my precious oilskin pants. I plunged this into the water, filled and drank it; filled again and drank it. Three times in all.
I suppose after drinking like that, nothing but an ostrich like constitution saved me, though perhaps the saving grace was that we all laid down without moving, and went fast asleep.
Later we woke, filled every single receptacle to its utmost capacity and started on our way, back to the lagoon.
We took a slightly different course returning, which carried us through some high coarse grass, and here we retrieved the Captain, who, despite all our persuasion and in fact, some threats of force, had steadfastly refused to leave the scene of the wreck. The loss of the ship seemed to have preyed very heavily on his mind, and certainly he was never the same man again, and never took another command, although at the Board of Trade Enquiry he was to all intents and purposes, exonerated from blame.
We happened to see his head appear at one time above the long grass, and then he disappeared, having, as it proved, fallen down, and it was doubtful if he would ever have got on his feet again had we not found him. We gave him a good drink, and partly carrying him, managed to get him away. Before our party left the huts in search of water, several boats had already been found — in various stages of decay — and we had launched one, in slightly better condition than the rest, with the idea of having it meet us at the edge of the lagoon on our return with water.
Knowing the conditions of the fellows when we left, we should not have been surprised if an attempt were to be made to rush the water containers. So the strongest formed a sort of bodyguard, wilst we youngsters became the carriers. Much to our surprise, the fellows in the boat took very little notice of us, and at first we thought this was perhaps part of a rather deep game to catch us unawares, and so get hold of the water. It should be borne in mind that before we started, many of them were half crazy through drinking salt water.
About half way across the lagoon we got rather tired of sitting tight, protecting our precious water bags, and asked them if they didn't want a drink. To our amazement they replied, quite indifferently, "Oh, no, we found water just after you left!"
So we had had our little jaunt for nothing.
Actually what they had discovered was the selfsame springs that we had found on our first journey round the lagoon, only it so happened that in their search they had come across them again, just at dead low water, which, as it turned out, was the only time when the water could be obtained in any other condition than salt. I say in any other condition, for there was really very little to choose after all, either salt or fresh. The taste was utterly vile. They were just some sort of mineral springs from which the water had to be collected while still boiling hot, and then allowed to cool down, but the taste was somewhat similar to what one associates with, say, a mixture of chalk and antiquated egg! We drank it simply because we must quench our thirst, but even though years have passed I can still taste the beastly stuff. However, that was our drink, and we could take it or leave it, just as we liked.