Joel Tyler Headley

Joel Tyler Headley

Summary

Portrait of Joel Tyler Headley Joel Tyler Headley Darien Exploring Expedition (1854… (1855)

Unmanned by debility and protracted suffering and destitution, these strong men would, one after another, fling themselves on the ground and burst into a paroxysm of tears. But these sudden exhibitions of feeling did not seem to be the result of failing hope or despair, but the mere relief demanded by overtasked nature. Wound up to the last pitch of endurance it dissolved in tears. Truxton and Maury seemed to view them in this light; for when the paroxysm came on the men they would halt, and, leaning on their carbines, let it pass, and then order the march to be resumed.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Joel Tyler Headley Joel Tyler Headley Darien Exploring Expedition (1854… (1855)

This little band of explorers, as they sat at sunset in their "Camp Beautiful," making soup out of their lean, tough hawks, the dark background of forest casting into still stronger relief their tattered garments and emaciated figures, looked any thing but men on whose fate, for the time being, rested the fate of a ship canal, destined to change the aspect and history of the world.
The next day they continued their march, but were much delayed by Harrison, who, though feverish and unfit to travel, would not permit the party to halt for him, but weak and wretched, kept staggering on.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Joel Tyler Headley Joel Tyler Headley Darien Exploring Expedition (1854… (1855)

Poor Polanco lay doubled up on the ground, moaning piteously; but soon the last sounds of the retiring footsteps of his comrades faded away in the forest, and he was left alone to die. How long he lay there was never known; but it was afterward discovered that he succeeded in crawling back to the grave of his friend, and stretching himself upon it, died; for his skeleton was found lying across it by Strain. Even a grave was a better companion than solitude.
The party, after floundering for a long time through the thick brushwood, at length struck the river again, but below Castilla's grave.
Source: Wikisource

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