By David Grann. In the long annals of the Royal Navy, there have been many triumphs and disasters. Wrecked on a desolate island off the coast of Patagonian Chile, the ensuing tale must be one of the most sensational and dramatic catastrophes of them all. On January 28, 1742, a ramshackle vessel of patched-together wood and cloth washed up on the coast of Brazil. Inside were 30 emaciated men, barely alive, and they had an extraordinary tale to tell. They were survivors of HMS Wager, a British vessel that had left England in 1740 on a secret mission during an imperial war with Spain. While the Wager had been chasing a Spanish treasure- filled galleon, it had crashed into a rocky shoal.
The men, after being marooned for months and facing starvation, built the flimsy craft and sailed for more than 100 days, traversing nearly 3,000 miles of stormwracked seas. They were greeted as heroes.
But then, six months later, another, even more decrepit craft landed on the coast of Brazil. This boat contained just three castaways, and they told a very different story. The 30 sailors who landed in Brazil were not heroes; they were mutineers.
The first group responded with countercharges of their own. They alleged the senior officer was tyrannical and murderous, and that his henchmen did whatever cruel and illegal acts their commander ordered.
It became clear that, while stranded on the island, the crew had fallen into anarchy, with warring factions fighting for dominion over the barren wilderness. As accusations of treachery and murder flew, the Admiralty convened a court martial to determine who was telling the truth. The stakes were life-and-death—for whomever the court found guilty could hang.
Softcover, 432 pages, #1077
