The Percy Anecdotes: |
Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell,
Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave,
Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave. - LORD BYRON.
THE celebrated Tasso and his friend Manso, with Scipio Belprato, Manso's brother-in-law, were one day in a summerhouse which commanded a full prospect of the sea, agitated at the moment by a furious storm. Belprato observed 'that he was astonished at the rashness and folly of men who would expose themselves to the rage of so merciless an element, where such numbers had suffered shipwreck.' 'And yet,' said Tasso, ' we every night go without fear to bed, where so many die every hour. Believe me, Death will find us in all parts: and those places that appear the least exposed are not always the most secure from his attacks.'-An Italian version of an old fable, but not on that account the less apposite.
The great discoverer having been invited by Guacanahari, a powerful cazique, and one of the five sovereigns among whom Hispaniola was divided, he left St. Thomas's on the 24th of December, for the purpose of visiting him. The sea was perfectly calm at the time, and as amidst the multiplicity of his occupations, he had not slept for two days, he retired at midnight to rest, having committed the helm to the pilot, with strict injunctions not to quit it for a moment. The pilot, dreading no danger, carelessly left the helm to an inexperienced cabin boy, and the ship, carried away by a current, was dashed against a rock. The violence of the shock awoke Columbus, who ran up to the deck; all was there confusion and despair. He alone retained presence of mind. He ordered some of the sailors to take a boat, and carry out an anchor astern but instead of obeying they made off towards the Nigna, which was about half a league distant. Columbus then commanded the masts to be cut down, in order to lighten the ship; but all his endeavours were too late; the vessel opened near the keel, and filled so fast with water, that its loss was inevitable. The smoothness of the sea, and the assistance of boats from the Nigna enabled the crew to save their lives.
As soon as the islanders heard of the disaster they crowded to the shore with their prince, Guacanahari, at their head; and instead of taking advantage of the distress in which they beheld the Spaniards, to attempt anything to their detriment, they lamented their misfortune with tears of sincere condolence. Not satisfied with this unavailing expression of their sympathy, they immediately put to sea a vast number of canoes, and, under the directions of the Spaniards, assisted in saving whatever could be got out of the wreck. Columbus, in a letter to Ferdinand and Isabella, gives a striking account of the humanity of the natives on this occasion. 'The king,' says he, 'gave us great assistance; he himself, with his brothers and relations, took all possible care that everything should be properly done both aboard and on shore. And from time to time he sent some of his relations weeping, to beg of me not to be dejected, for he would give me all he had. I can assure your highness that there would not have been so much care taken in securing our effects in any part of Spain, as all our property was put together in one place near his palace, until the houses which he wanted to repair for the custody of it were emptied. He immediately placed a guard of armed men, who watched during the whole night, and those on shore lamented, as if they had been much interested in our loss.' Next morning this prince visited Columbus, who was now on board the Nigna, and endeavoured to console him for his loss by offering all that he possessed to repair it. How fully does such conduct justify the remark respecting this great man, that-
'By India's gentle race alone
as pity to his sufferings shown.'
In the year 1344, an Englishman named Macham, sailing from England to Spain with a lady whom he carried off, was driven by a tempest to the Island of Madeira, till then unknown, and totally uninhabited. He cast anchor in the harbour or bay, now called Machico, after the name of Macham. The shore of the island, beautifully covered with wood, and shining resplendent under one of the serenest of skies, presented an inviting sight to the wearied mariners; but, above all, to the fair runaway, on whom the severities of the voyage had brought a deadly sickness. Macham conveyed her to the land, but she touched it, alas! only to breathe her last. Meanwhile, a new storm arose, and the ship was driven out to sea, before Macham and part of the crew who were with him had time to return on board. In an island, however, so well wooded and watered, the means both of shelter and subsistence were easily procured. To Macham, whose best consolation it was to linger round the spot which contained the remains of his departed mistress, the detention was accompanied with no regrets. He spent his time in erecting a small chapel or mausoleum over her grave: and on a stone tablet inscribed her name, and a statement of the adventure which had doomed her to be laid thus far away, not only from the ashes of her fathers, but from all else of human kind. The feelings which may be supposed to have filled the breast of the desolate mourner over this grave in the wilderness are well depicted in the following elegiac stanzas, the production of a modern pen:-
'O'er my poor Anna's lowly grave
o dirge shall sound, no knell shall ring;
ut angels, as the high pines wave,
heir half-heard "miserere" sing.
o flow'rs of transient bloom at eve
he maidens on the turf shall strew;
or sigh, as this sad spot they leave,
Sweets to the sweet, a long adieu."
ut, in this wilderness profound,
'er her the dove shall build her nest;
nd ocean swell with softer sound,
requiem to her dream of rest.
h! when shall I as quiet be,
hen not a friend or human eye,
hall mark beneath the mossy tree
he spot where we forgotten lie!
o kiss her name on this cold stone,
s all that now on earth I crave;
or in this world I am alone:
h! lay me with her in the grave!'
The companions of Macham, who could not be supposed to share much in his feelings, grew soon tired of their solitude, and, resolving to try their fortunes again on the waters, prevailed on him to join with them in the construction of a boat out of one of the large trees by which they were surrounded. In this they all put to sea, but were not long after cast on the shore of Africa, without sail or oars. The Moors, to whom navigation had not then made a wreck an occurrence so barbarously prized as it is now, were infinitely struck at the sight of the strangers; they received them well, and their chief readily procured them a safe conveyance to Spain.
On the 27th of January, 1689, there embarked at Goa, on board of a Portuguese frigate, an embassy from the King of Siam to the King of Portugal, consisting of three great Mandarins, or ambassadors proper, with six of inferior degree, and a large retinue. On the 27th of April, land having for three days been seen a-head, a little to the right, the seamen went aloft to survey it; from their report, as well as other marks, the captain and pilots judged it to be the (Cape of Good Hope. The ship then stood on its course, until two or three hours after sunset, when the captain supposing himself beyond the land that had been descried, steered more northerly. The weather was clear, and the moon shone bright; the captain, persuaded that he had doubled the Cape, set nobody on the mast head to look out; the seamen indeed were on the watch as usual, but it was only for working the ship; and they conversed together, unsuspicious of danger, until it became so imminent as to be inevitable. Suddenly a dark shade was perceived close on the starboard, and those nearest cried out ' Land ! land a-head ! put down the helm.' The steersman hastily obeyed, but the ship was already so close to land, that she struck thrice on a rock in tacking, and then drove towards the shore unmanageable. In vain did the crew cut away the masts, and throw the guns and lading overboard to lighten the vessel. She struck so hard on the breakers, that her sides began to open below the gunroom, which was quickly flooded. The water rose above the lower deck, and reached the great cabin, and soon it was waist deep on the second deck. 'I cannot describe,' says Occum Chamnam, one of the great Mandarins who was on board, 'the terror and consternation which then prevailed. Who can figure the emotions excited by the approach of certain death to so many! Nothing was heard but shrieks, sighs, and groans. People rushed wildly together. Those who had been the bitterest enemies, were now reconciled in all sincerity. Some fell on their knees, or prostrate on the deck, implored divine aid: while others, in the hope of saving themselves, threw overboard casks, empty chests, yards, and spars. The tumult was such, that it deafened the crashing of the vessel breaking into a thousand pieces, and the noise of the waves dashing with incredible fury against the rocks.'
When the first excess of terror had subsided, it was discovered that the shore could be gained without much difficulty; and, indeed, with the exception of seven or eight they all reached it in safety. The second great Mandarin, who was the strongest and best swimmer of the three, leaped into the sea, and, like another Caesar, swam to the shore, carrying the king's despatches aloft on a sabre, which his Siamese Majesty had presented to him.
Occum Chamnam, after gaining the shore with the aid of some planks, was induced on the next day to venture on a kind of a hurdle back to the vessel in search of clothing and food, of which they were all much in want. He found every place, however, full of water, and could only obtain some gold stuffs, a trifling quantity of biscuits, and a small case of wine. The gold stuffs he distributed among some Siamese, who had escaped quite naked; the biscuit was rendered useless by the salt water; and the case of wine from which poor Occum hoped to draw many a glass of comfort for himself during his pilgrimage to the Cape, was lost through a fraud, which he thus philosophically relates: ' I entrusted it,' he says, 'to a Portuguese, who had testified great friendship for me, telling him it was at his command, provided he would give me some of it when it was required. I soon had occasion to learn the weakness of friendship when opposed to the impulse of necessity; and that self, under the pressure of want, is the first consideration. My friend daily supplied me with half a glass of the wine during the first few days, in the confidence of discovering a spring or rivulet; but finding ourselves disappointed, and being tormented by thirst, my requests for part of what I had bestowed in the warmth of friendship were vain. My friend gave me so effectual a repulse the first time, adding, that even his father should not participate in it, that I could never venture to renew my solicitations.'
On Sunday, the second day after the shipwreck, they began their march. The captain and pilots maintained that they were not above twenty leagues from the Cape of Good Hope, where the Dutch had a populous settlement, and that they would take but a day or two to reach it. On this assurance, most of the company left behind whatever provisions they had got from the vessel, in order that they might not be embarrassed by them.
The Portuguese led the van, as the Siamese were obliged to lag behind, on account of their first ambassador, who being in a feeble and languishing condition, could not advance quickly. At the end of the second day, when they expected at all events to have reached the Cape, there was no sign of their being near it and want in all its craving forms had already begun to prey upon them. The first ambassador of the Siamese assembling his countrymen, told them that he found himself so weak and fatigued, that it was impossible for him to keep up; he considered it therefore better that those in health should hasten to overtake the Portuguese; and all that he desired for himself was, that since the Dutch settlement was surely not far distant, they would send him a horse or litter, with some provisions, to carry him to the Cape, should he be found still surviving.
The separation was a sorrowful but a necessary one. A youth of fifteen, however, to whom the ambassador had always shown great kindness, gave a noble proof of gratitude in return, by resolving to remain and live or die along with him. The generous example inspired an old domestic with the same determination, and he also remained with his master.
The remnant of the Siamese by making great exertions came up with the Portuguese, with whom they travelled fourteen days more along the coast, without coming in sight of the Cape, so egregiously had the captain and pilots miscalculated; the shifts to which they were driven for food, almost exceed belief; many dropped dead by the way through exhaustion; and the whole were wasted to the merest skeletons.
The Portuguese at last appear to have thought that they would best consult their own preservation by getting quit of their Siamese companions. One morning when the Siamese were proceeding to join company as usual, the Portuguese were no longer to be seen.' ' in vain,' says Occum Chamnam, 'we looked around, shouted, and sought everywhere. Not only were we unable to see one of them, but we even could not discover the route they had taken. So cruelly abandoned, we were at once overwhelmed by hunger, thirst, and lassitude; chagrin, alarm, rage, and despair, took possession of our hearts. We stared at each other in stupefaction, a profound silence ensued, and all sentiment seemed to have vanished.'
The second ambassador was the first to resume courage, and revived it in the rest by the following address:
'Faithful Siamese, you are equally sensible with myself of the unhappy state to which we are reduced. Though all was lost by our shipwreck, we had still some consolation. While the Portuguese remained, they were our guides, and in some respect our protection; I would persuade myself that after being so well treated by them till now, urgent occasions alone can have induced them to leave us. It will not, however, avert the evils by which we are menaced to bewail insincerity and want of faith in others. Let US endeavour to forget them entirely, and let us conduct ourselves as if our companies had never been joined together.
'One thing more. You have witnessed my invariable respect for the despatches of the great king, our master; my first, or rather my sole anxiety, during our shipwreck, was for their safety; nor can I ascribe my own preservation to any other cause than the fortune which is inseparable from him who has once approached the throne. You have since beheld the circumspection with which I bore them; when encamped on mountains, I have placed them still higher, and always above the rest of our body, and myself withdrawing lower, I guarded them at a respectful distance, and in the plains they were affixed to the top of the highest plants I could attain. During the journey they were borne by myself and never entrusted to others, until I was unable to drag my limbs along. Now, in our present uncertainty, should I not be able to follow you long, I enjoin the third ambassador, in the name of our great king, to act precisely as I have done, and should his strength also fail, to transmit these instructions to the first mandarin: I repeat, that the third ambassador must be equally circumspect about these august despatches if I die before him, so that some one of the Siamese may return them to the king should they not reach their intended destination. But should it be fated that none of us make the Cape of Good Hope, he to whom they were last entrusted must bury them on some eminence if he can, so that they may not be exposed to insult; and then he may die before them, testifying as much respect in death as he was bound to show during life. Such is what I recommend. Let us resume our pristine courage: let us never separate, but taking easy journeys, trust that the fortune of our king will attend us, and that his reigning star will watch over our preservation.
"These words,' says Occum Chamnam, 'made a deep impression on us all; there was none who did not feel himself inspired with vigour, and resolute to execute the ambassador's injunctions. We agreed that it was most expedient to follow the same route which the Portuguese should appear to have taken, and to set out without further delay.'
It was not, however, till the thirty-first day of their pilgrimage, and after a continuation of hardships as great as any they had yet encountered, that they at last reached the Cape of Good Hope, where the kind treatment they received went far to make them forget their misfortunes.
One of the first requests they made to the Governor was to send immediate aid to the first ambassador, whom they had left near the place of the shipwreck, the hope being entertained that he was still alive. His excellency replied that as it was then the rainy season, it was impossible to travel; but that at the first commencement of the good weather all possible care should be taken to seek the ambassador, and provide him with the means for his return. No farther mention is made of this unfortunate individual and there is too much reason to believe that, with his two faithful attendants, he perished in the desert.
Among the cases of suffering by the wreck, in 1686, of the vessel in which the Siamese embassy to Portugal was embarked, few have stronger claims to pity than that of the captain. He was a man of rank, sprung from one of the first families in Portugal; he was rich and honourable, and had long commanded a ship in which he rendered great service to the king his master, and had given many marks of his valour and fidelity. The captain had carried his only son out to India along with him; he was a youth possessed of every amiable quality, well instructed for his years: gentle, docile, and most fondly attached to his father. The captain watched with the most intense anxiety over his safety: on the wreck of the ship, and during the march to the Cape, he caused him to be carried by his slaves. At length all the slaves having perished, or being so weak that they could not drag themselves along, this poor youth was obliged to trust to his own strength, but became so reduced and feeble that having laid him down to rest on a rock, he was unable to rise again. His limbs were stiff and swollen, and he lay stretched at length unable to bend a joint. The sight struck like a dagger to his father's heart; he tried repeatedly to recover him, and by assisting him to advance a few steps, supposed that the numbness might be removed; but his limbs refused to serve him, he was only dragged along, and those whose aid his father implored, seeing they could do no more, frankly declared that if they carried him they must themselves perish.
The unfortunate captain was driven to despair. Lifting his son on his shoulders, he tried to carry him; he could make but a single step, when he fell to the ground with his son who seemed more distressed with his father's grief than with his own sufferings. The heroic boy besought him to leave him to die; the sight, he said, of his father's tears and affliction were infinitely more severe than the bodily pain he endured. These words, far from inducing the captain to depart, melted him more and more, until he at last resolved to die with his son. The youth, astonished at his father's determination, and satisfied that his persuasions were unavailing, entreated the Portuguese in the most impressive manner to carry away his father.
Two priests who were of the party endeavored to represent to the captain the sinfulness of persisting in his resolution; but the Portuguese were obliged finally to carry him away by force, after having removed his son a little apart. So cruel, however, was the separation that the captain never recovered it. The violence of his grief was unabating; and he actually died of a broken heart after reaching the Cape.
Perhaps the most aggravating circumstances under which shipwreck can occur are when it is occasioned by fire. It is then that death stares the mariner in the face in the most hideous form, while his means of counteracting the danger, or escaping from it, are more limited and effectual. Not many disasters of this nature have been so calamitous as the burning of a French East lndiaman, The Prince. She sailed from Port L'Orient on the 19th of February, 1752, on a voyage outward bound. She suffered much in the passage from being driven on a sandbank. In June she was discovered to be on fire. While the captain hastened on deck, Lieutenant de la Fond ordered some sails to be dipped in the sea, and the hatches to be covered with them, in order to prevent access of air. Everyone was employed in procuring water; all the buckets were used, the pumps plied, and pipes introduced from them into the hold, but the rapid progress of the flames baffled every exertion to subdue them, and augmented the general consternation. The boatswain and three others took possession of the yawl, and pushed off, but those on board still continued as active as ever. The master boldly went down into the hold, but the intense heat compelled him to return; and had not a quantity of water been dashed over him, he would have been severely scorched. In attempting to get the long-boat out, it fell on the guns and could not be righted.
Consternation now seized on the crew; nothing but sighs and groans resounded through the vessel: and the animals on board, as if sensible of the impending danger, uttered the most dreadful cries. The chaplain, who was now on the quarter-deck, gave the people general absolution, still cheering them to renewed exertions, but
'With fruitless toil the crew oppose the flame;
No art can now the spreading mischief tame
Some choak'd and smother'd did expiring be,
Burn with the ship, and on the waters fry:
Some, when the flames could be no more withstood,
By wild despair directed, midst the flood
Themselves in haste from the tall vessel threw,
And from a dry to liquid ruin flew
Sad choice of death! when those who shun the fire,
Must to as fierce an element retire:
Uncommon sufferings did these wretches wait,
Both burnt and drown'd, they met a double fate.
Self-preservation now was the only object; each was occupied in throwing overboard whatever promised the least chance of escape; yards, spars, hencoops, and everything to be met with, was seized in despair, and thus employed. Some leaped into the sea, as the mildest death that awaited them; others more successful swam to fragments of the wreck, while some crowded on the ropes and yards, hesitating which alternative of destruction to choose. A father was seen to snatch his son from the flames, and clasp him to his breast; then plunging into the waves, they perished in each other's embrace.
'What ghastly ruin then deformed the deep'
ere glowing planks, and flowing ribs of oak,
ere smoking beams, and masts in sunder broke.'
The floating masts and yards were covered with men struggling with the watery element, many of whom now perished by balls dis charged from the guns as heated by the fire, forming thus a third means of destruction. M. de la Fond, who had hitherto borne the misfortune with the greatest fortitude, was now pierced with anguish to see that no further hope remained of preserving the ship, or the lives of his fellow-sufferers. Stripping off his clothes, he designed slipping down a yard, one end of which dipped in the water, but it was so covered with miserable beings shrinking from death, that he tumbled over them, and fell into the sea, where a drowning soldier caught hold of him. Lieutenant de la Fond made every exertion to disengage. himself, but in vain; twice they plunged below the 'surface, but still the man held him until the agonies of death were passed, and he became loosened from his grasp. After clearing his way through the dead bodies, which covered the surface of the ocean, de la Fond seized on a yard, and afterwards gained a spritsail covered with people, but on which he was nevertheless permitted to take a place. He next got on the mainmast, which having been consumed below, fell overboard, and after killing some in its fall, afforded a temporary succour to others.
Eighty persons were now on the mainmast, including the chaplain, who by his discourse and example, taught the duty of resignation.
Lieutenant de la Fond, seeing the worthy man quit his hold and drop into the sea, lifted him up. 'Let me go,' said he, 'I am already half drowned, and it is only protracting my sufferings.'-'No, my friend,' the lieutenant replied, 'when my strength is exhausted, but not till then, we will perish together.'
The flames still continued raging in the vessel, and the fire at last reached the magazine, when the most thundering explosion ensued; and nothing but pieces of flaming timber, projected aloft in the air, could be seen, threatening to crush to atoms in their fall numbers of miserable beings, already struggling in the agonies of death. Lieutenant de la Fond, with the pilot and master, now escaped to the yawl; and as night approached, they providentially discovered a cask of brandy, about fifteen pounds of pork, a piece of scarlet cloth, about twenty yards of linen, a dozen of pipe staves, and a small piece of cordage. The scarlet cloth was substituted for a sail, an oar was erected for a mast, and a plank for a rudder. This equipment was made in the darkness of the night, and a great difficulty yet remained; for wanting charts and instruments, and being nearly two hundred leagues from the land, the party felt at a loss how to steer.
Eight days and nights passed in miserable succession without land being seen, the party all the while exposed to the scorching heat of the sun by day, and to the intense cold by night, suffering too from the extremities of hunger and of thirst.
When everything seemed to predict a speedy termination to the sufferings of this unfortunate crew, they discovered the distant land on the 3rd of August. It would be difficult to describe the change which the prospect of deliverance created. Their strength was renovated, and they were roused to precautions against being drifted away by the current. They reached the coast of Brazil, and entered Tresson Bay. As soon as they reached the shore, they prostrated themselves on the ground, and in transports of joy rolled on the sand. They exhibited the most frightful appearance; some were quite naked, others had only shirts in rags; and scarcely anything human characterized any of them. When deliberating on the course they should follow, about fifty Portuguese of the settlement advanced, and seeing their wretched condition, pitied their misfortunes, and conducted them to their dwellings, where they were hospitably entertained.
The chief man of the place next came, and conducted Lieutenant de la Fond and his companions to his house, where he charitably supplied them with linen shirts and trousers, and with a plenteous meal. Though sleep was almost as necessary as food, yet the survivors would not retire to rest, until they had returned thanks for their miraculous deliverance in the church, which was half a league distant.
They were afterwards conducted to Paraibo, and thence to Pernambuco, where they embarked the 5th of October: they reached Lisbon on the 17th of December, whence they procured a passage to Port L'Orient. Nearly three hundred persons had perished in this dreadful catastrophe.
The Indian brig Matilda, Captain Fowler, on a voyage from New South Wales, to the Derwent and Eastern Islands, was cut off and plundered on the night of the 10th of April, 1815, white lying at anchor in Duff's Bay, at the Island of Roodpoah, one of the Marquesas. Five of the crew, who were Poomatoomen, had previously deserted, and joining with some of the Roodpoah natives, took the opportunity of a dark night, to cut the vessel adrift; when she drove ashore through a heavy surf, and was soon bilged and filled with water. When the natives saw that it was impracticable to get the vessel afloat, they concurred, universally, in the design of putting the whole of the crew to death; which is a constant practice among the different natives towards one another, when their canoes happen to fall upon a strange shore, through distress of weather or any other accident.
Fortunately, Captain Fowler had formed an intimacy with the chief, or king, of these savages, Nooahetoo, who presided at the horrible tribunal that had devoted the wretched mariners to instant slaughter. He withheld his assent to the murder, but had no hesitation in permitting the plunder of the vessel. The crew were informed by the significant gesticulations that accompanied the vehement debate on the occasion, that their lives were dependent upon the issue. The good chief who was seated with his son by his side, was opposed by many other chiefs, though of inferior rank he had besides been called to the supremacy of the island, by the general wish of the people, his dignity not being an hereditary right, but elective, and the people now pressed their solicitations earnestly, peremptorily demanding his assent to the sacrifice. For a length of time he opposed this cruel resolution by force of words but this not seeming likely to prevail, he adopted a mode, which, while it did honour to his humanity, silenced his people in an instant. Finding that all his expostulations were defeated, upon the principle of undeviating custom, he deliberately took up two ropes that were near him, and fixing one round the neck of his son, and the other round his own, he called to the chief next in command, who immediately approached him. The conference was short and decisive; he first pointed to the cord that encircled the neck of his son, and then to the other which he had entwined round his own. 'These strangers,' said he, 'are doomed to death by my chiefs and my people, and it is not fit that I, who am their king, should live to see so vile a deed perpetrated. Let my child and myself be strangled before it is performed: and then it never will be said, that we sanctioned, even with our eyesight, the destruction of these unoffending people.'
The magnanimity of such conduct produced, even in the mind of the unenlightened savages, a paroxysm of surprise, mingled with sentiments of admiration. For a moment the people looked wildly on their king, whose person they adored. They saw the obedient chief to whom the order of strangling had been imparted, aghast with horror and amazement at the change which a few moments had produced. The mandate which had proceeded from the king's own lips must be obeyed; and commanded to perform the dreadful office, he proceeded to obey, when a sudden shout from the multitude awed him to forbear. 'The king! the king!' burst forth from every lip 'What! kill the king? No, no, let all the strangers live-no man shall kill the king.' Thus were the lives of Captain Fowler and his men preserved, and they afterwards reached Sydney in safety.
The Speedwell, one of the vessels fitted out for an expedition against the Spanish settlements in South America, was wrecked on the coast of Juan Fernandez, in the year 1719. The crew succeeded in getting to the island, where, under the directions of the commander, Captain Shelvocke, a new vessel was constructed, thirty feet in the keel, sixteen in the beams, and seven feet deep in the hold. This vessel, which was constructed with two masts, and was about twenty tons burthen, was, on being launched, called the Recovery. The crew, consisting of fifty persons, embarked on board of her, with a very slender supply of provisions: and with but one gun and a few muskets, sailed for the Bay of Conception, as the nearest port.
Coming in sight of a large Spanish vessel, Captain Shelvocke determined to attack her; but although she mounted forty guns, yet the desperate courage of the Recovery struck the captain with terror, and he sailed off. An attempt on another Spanish vessel was equally unsuccessful, and the crew now began to murmur. A third vessel of a large size was seen in the Road of Pisco, and Captain Shelvocke immediately resolved to make a desperate attempt to board her. Every man was ordered to prepare himself to carry her at one blow, as now was an opportunity of providing themselves with a vessel which would prove their security if they should be successful.
Captain Shelvocke bore down upon her, and meeting with no resistance, took possession of her. The captain offered sixteen thousand dollars to ransom her, but Captain Shelvocke giving him his own bark, weighed anchor, and stood out to sea in his newly-acquired vessel, which was the Jesus Maria, of about two hundred tons burthen. This enterprising officer, still intent on the objects of his expedition, afterwards succeeded in taking another Spanish vessel, and continued cruising about, often much distressed for provisions, until only six or seven of his crew were fit for duty. He then sailed for India, and thence to Europe, after an eventful absence of nearly four years.
Destruction of Admiral Graves's Fleet.
The greatest naval catastrophe that ever arose from the violence of the elements, occurred to the fleet under the command of Admiral Graves, in August, 1782. It far exceeds in the melancholy catalogue of ships and human beings buried beneath the waves any disaster of a similar nature recorded in the 'Naval History of Britain' All the trophies of Lord Rodney's victory, except the Ardent, perished in the storm: two British ships of the line foundered; an incredible number of merchantmen under convoy were lost; and the number of lives that perished exceeded three thousand.
It was on the 25th of July, that Admiral Graves hoisted his flag on board the Ramilies, of seventy-four guns, having under his orders the Canada and Centaur, with the Pallas frigate, and the following French ships taken by Lord Rodney the preceding August, namely, the Ville de Paris, the Glorieux, Hector, Ardent, Caton, and Jason. All these vessels were in a very wretched condition, The Ardent was ordered back to Port Royal, and the Jason never joined the fleet. The rest sailed from Bluefields Bay, on the 15th of July, and proceeded homewards. On the 17th of September, a violent storm arose, which, in a few minutes, reduced the Ramillies to a very shattered condition. The cabin where the admiral lay was flooded, and his cot-bed jerked down by the violence of the shock and the ship's instantaneous revulsion, so that he was obliged to pull on his boots half-leg deep in water, without any stockings, to huddle on wet clothes, and get on deck. At dawn of day the people of the Ramillies beheld the Dutton, formerly an East Indiaman, but now a store-ship, go down head foremost, the fly of her ensign being the last thing visible. A lieutenant of the navy who commanded her, leaped from the deck into the sea, and was soon overwhelmed by its billows; but twelve or thirteen of the crew contrived to push off one of the boats: and running with the wind, succeeded in reaching a ship, which fortunately descrying them, flung over a number of ropes, by the help of which these daring fellows scrambled up her side, and were fortunately saved.
Out of ninety-four or ninety-five sail seen the day before, hardly twenty could now be counted. Of the ships of war there were discerned, the Canada, half full, down upon the lee quarter, her main topmast and the mizenmast gone, and otherwise much damaged. The Centaur was without masts, bowsprit, or rudder; and the Glorieux without foremast, bowsprit, or main topmast. Of these, the two latter perished with all their crew, except the captain of the Centaur, who, with a few others, slipt off from her stern into one of the boats without being noticed, and so escaped the fate of the rest. The Ville de Paris appeared unhurt, and was commanded by Captain George Wilkinson, a most experienced seaman, who had made twenty-four voyages to and from the West Indies, and had therefore been pitched upon to lead the fleet through the gulf; she was, however, afterwards buried in the ocean with all on board her, consisting of more than eight hundred people. Of the convoy, besides the Dutton and the British Queen, seven more were discovered without mast or bowsprit, eighteen had lost masts, and several others had foundered.
The Ramillies had at this time six feet water in the hold, and the pumps would not free her, the water having worked out the oakum. The admiral therefore gave orders for all the buckets to be remanned, and every officer to help towards freeing the ship; this enabled her to sail on, and keep pace with some of the merchanmen; but
'Spite of the seaman's toil the storm prevails:
n vain, with skilful strength he binds the sails;
n vain the cordy cables bind them fast,
t once it rips and rends them from the mast;
t once the winds the flutt'ring canvas tear,
hen whirl and whisk it thro' the sportive air. "
In the evening it was found necessary to dispose of the forecastle and aftermost quarterdeck guns, together with some of the shot and other articles of very great weight; and the frame of the ship having opened during the night, the admiral was next morning prevailed upon, by the renewed and pressing remonstrances of his officers, to allow ten guns more to be thrown overboard. The ship still continuing to open very much, the admiral ordered tarred canvas and hides to be nailed fore and aft, from under the fills of the ports on the main deck, and on the lower deck. Her increasing damage requiring more still to be done, the admiral directed all the guns on the upper deck, the shot both on that and the lower deck, with various heavy stores, to be thrown overboard.
The Ramillies still getting worse and worse, notwithstanding the unabated exertions of everyone on board, the officers United in entreating the admiral to go into one of the merchant vessels, then in sight; this he positively refused to do, saying, that it would be unpardonable in a commander-in-chief to desert his comrades in the hour of distress-that his living a few years longer was of little consequence, but that by leaving his ship at such a time, he should set a bad example to his crew.
On the evening of the 20th, the water continuing to increase, notwithstanding the anchors were cut away, and all the lower deck guns were thrown overboard; the people who had hitherto borne their calamities without a murmur, began to despair, and earnestly expressed a desire to quit the ship, lest they should all founder in her. The admiral advanced, and addressing himself to the crew, said, ' My brave fellows, although I and my officers have the same regard for our own lives that you have, yet I assure you we have no intention of deserting either you or the ship, and that we will stand or fall together, as becomes men and Englishmen. As to myself I am determined to try one night more on board the Ramillies. I hope you will all remain with me, for one good day, with a moderate sea and our exertions, may enable us to clear and secure the well from the encroaching ballast; and then hands enough may be spared to raise jury masts, that will carry the ship to Ireland. The sight of the Ramillies alone, and the knowledge that she is manned so gallantly, will be sufficient to protect the remaining part of the convoy. But above all, as everything has now been done for her relief that can he thought of let us wait the event; and be assured, I will make the signal directly for the trade to lie by during the night.'
This temperate speech had the desired effect; the firmness and confidence with which he spoke, and their reliance on his seamanship and judgment, as well as his constant presence and attention to every accident, inspired them with new courage; they returned to their labours with cheerfulness, although they had had no rest from the first fatal stroke. At three o'clock in the morning of the 21st, the well being quite broken in, the frame and carcase of the ship began to give way in every part, and the crew exclaimed that it was impossible any longer to keep her above water. In this extremity the admiral resolved not to lose a moment in removing the people, whenever daylight should appear, but told the captain not to communicate any more of his intention, than that he proposed to remove the sick and lame, at daybreak, and for this end he should call on board all; the boats of the merchantmen; he, nevertheless gave private orders to the captain to have all the bread brought upon deck, with a quantity of beef pork, flour, &c. and to make every other preparation necessary for the whole crew quitting the ship. Accordingly at dawn the signal was made for the boats of the merchantmen, but nobody suspected what was to follow until the bread was entirely removed and the sick gone. About six o'clock the people themselves were permitted to go off, and between nine and ten o'clock, there being nothing further to direct or regulate, the admiral himself after shaking hands with every officer, and leaving his barge for their better accomodation and transport, quitted for ever the Ramillies, which had then nine feet water in her hold. He went into a small leaky boat, laden with bread, out of which both himself and the surgeon who accompanied him, had to bale the water all the way. He left behind him all his wine, furniture, books, charts. &c. being unwilling to employ even a single servant in saving or packing up what belonged to himself in a time of such general calamity, or to appear to fare better in any respect than his crew.
By half-past four all the complement had been taken out, and the captain, first and third lieutenants, with every soul except the fourth lieutenant, Mr. Chapman, had left her and the latter gentleman was left to carry into execution the admiral's orders for setting fire to the wreck, when finally deserted. The hull burned rapidly, and the flames quickly reached the powder, which was filled in the after magazine, and had been lodged very high; the decks and upper works, within thirty-five minutes, blew up with a horrid explosion, while the bottom was precipitated into the ocean. The crew had but just all reached the respective ships, when the wind rose to so great a height, and so continued without intermission for six or seven days successively, that no boat in the time could have lived on the water. On so small an interval depended the salvation of more than six hundred lives! The admiral, who had got aboard the Belle, Captain Forster, reached Cork Harbour on the 10th of October.
Among the vessels which suffered most in the dreadful storm which was so fatal to Admiral Graves's fleet in 1782, was the Centaur man of was commanded by Captain Inglefield. During seven days in which she was the sport of the elements, every exertion was made to save her, nor did the crew think of quitting her until the evening of the seventh day, when she seemed little more than suspended in the water, and there was no certainty that she would swim from one minute to another. The love of life, which has seldom waited so near an approach of death to exhibit itself now began to level all distinctions. As it was impossible for any man to deceive himself with the hopes of being saved on a raft in such a sea, several men had forced the pinnace, and more were attempting to get into it, when Captain Inglefield came on deck about five o'clock in the after noon. There was not a moment for consideration, and he felt that he must either perish with the ship's company in the vessel, or seize the only opportunity which offered for escaping. The love of life prevailed, and accompanied by Mr. Rainy, the Master, Captain Inglefield descended into the boat, which could only be got clear of the ship with much difficulty, as twice the number she could carry were pushing in.
There were altogether twelve persons in the boat, which was very leaky, all thinly clothed, and in the midst of the Western Ocean, without compass, quadrant, or sail. A blanket was discovered in the boat, which was used as a sail. A bag of bread, a small ham, one piece of pork, two quart bottles of water, and a few French cordials, constituted their whole stock of provisions.
On the fifth day after quitting the ship, the condition of those in the boat began to be truly miserable from the hunger and cold; their bread was nearly all spoiled by salt water, and it became indispensably necessary that their allowance should be restricted. One biscuit was divided into twelve morsels for breakfast, and the same for dinner; the neck of a bottle broken off, with a cork in it, served for a glass; and this filled with water was the allowance for twenty-four hours to each man. A little rain water that was caught was a seasonable help but on the fifteenth day only one bottle of water, and one day's allowance of bread remained. Despair and gloom which had hitherto been kept at bay, could be resisted no longer, and the cheerful song, and the merry joke, which had kept them in good spirits, were now invoked in vain. Their last breakfast was now served, and the crew were endeavouring to resign themselves to that fate which now appeared inevitable, when land was descried, though at twenty leagues distance. They immediately shaped their course for it, the wind freshens; the boat, as if conscious that it would soon be relieved of the burthen with which it toiled, glided through the water at a rapid pace; and by midnight she entered the road of Fayal, where the regulations of the port did not permit them to land until examined by the health officers. Pilots brought them refreshments of bread, wine, and water, and the night was passed in the boat. Next morning the English Consul visited them, and showed them every kindness and humanity; but the crew were many of them so weak, as to be unable to walk. One of the persons, a quarter-master, died in the boat. Captain Inglefield and the survivors were afterwards tried by a court-martial, and acquitted of all blame on the melancholy occasion.
When a shipwreck happens on the coast of Gigery, which is situated about fifty leagues to the eastward of Algiers, the inhabitants, who are a tribe of wandering Arabs, flock down from the mountains, and seize on everything they possibly can, without any consideration as to the country to which the vessel belongs. If it should happen to be a Turkish ship, the Mahommedan crew is dismissed, with a sufficient supply of provisions to enable them to reach a place where they can be relieved, but all other subjects are made slaves. These Arabs put a high value on iron, which was on one occasion attended with fatal consequences. A bark belonging to Tunis being stranded on the coast of Gigery, the inhabitants hastened on board to plunder. The Turks and Moors who composed the crew, were allowed to go at large; and the natives after carrying off as much as they could, were anxious to obtain the iron about the vessel. As they did not well know how to come at it, they laid a train to the powder magazine, concluding that if the ship blew up, they would be able to collect the iron from the fragments. On setting fire to the train, the vessel indeed blew up; but fifty of the plunderers, who had not retired beyond the effects of the explosion, were killed, and a much larger number wounded.
Shipwrecked Mariners Saved through a Dream.
In June, 1695, the ship Mary, commanded by Captain Jones, with a crew of twenty-two men, sailed from Spithead for the West Indies; and contrary to the remonstrances of one Adams on board, the master steered a course which brought the vessel on the Caskets, a large body of rocks, two or three leagues SE of Guernsey. It was about three o'clock the morning, when the ship struck against the high rock; all the bows were stove in; the water entered most rapidly, and in less than half an hour she sunk. Those of the crew who were in the forepart of the ship, got upon the rock; but the rest, to the number of eight, who were in the hind part, sunk directly, and were no more seen. Adams and thirteen more, who were on the rock, had not time to save anything out of the ship for their subsistence; and the place afforded them none, nor even any shelter from the heat of the sun. The first day they went down the rock, and gathered limpets, but finding that they encreased their thirst, they eat no more of them. The third day they killed the dog which had swam to the rock, and eat him, or rather chewed his flesh, to allay their thirst, which was excessive. They passed nine days without any other food, and without any prospect of relief; their flesh wasted, their sinews shrunk, and their mouths parched with thirst; on the tenth day, they agreed to cast lots, that two of the company should die, in order to preserve the rest a little longer. When the two men were marked out, they were willing and ready to stab themselves, as had been agreed on with horrible ingenuity, in order that those who were living might put a tobacco pipe into the incision, and each in his turn suck so many gulps of blood to quench his thirst! But although the necessity was so pressing, they were yet unwilling to resort to this dreadful extremity, and resolved to stay one day more in hopes of seeing a ship. The next day, no relief appearing, the two wretched victims on whom the lots had fallen, stabbed themselves, the rest sucked their blood, and were thus revived for a short time. They still continued to make signals of distress, and having hoisted a piece of a shirt on a stick, it was at length seen by a ship's crew of Guernsey, one Taskard, master, bound from that island to Southampton. They were all taken on board, when each had a glass of cider and water to drink, which refreshed them considerably; but two of them eagerly seizing a bottle, drank to excess, which caused the death of both in less than two hours.
The most remarkable circumstance connected with this shipwreck, is yet to be mentioned. It was with great reluctance that Taskard brought his ship near the Caskets, which were out of his course: but he was very much importuned by his son, who had twice dreamed that there were men in distress upon these rocks. The father refused to notice the first dream, and was angry with his son; nor would he have yielded on the second, if there had been a favourable wind to go on his own course.
Lady Cast Away on the Coast of Labrador.
The following brief but striking narrative is related by Lieutenant Chappell, in his 'Voyage to Newfoundland.' The reader will only need it to be suggested to discover the resemblance (notwithstanding the wide difference of scene and other circumstances) of this true story of Mrs. E. to Milton's beautiful creation of the Lady, in the Masque of Comus.
We were much surprised (says Lieutenant Chappell) on visiting our good friend Mr. Pinson to find a handsome female seated at the head of the table. The sight of a white woman was now a real gratification to us all, and our officers were anxiously desirous to discover by what means she had been thrown upon the savage territory of Labrador. On inquiry we found that she was the daughter of a respectable Canadian, who had early in life been married to a Mr. E-, the master of an English Quebec trading vessel. In the beginning of December, 1812, the ship of her husband quitted the country in which she was born, on its return with a cargo to Europe; but during its voyage thither it was wrecked near Bonne Bay, in the Island of Newfoundland. The night was dreadfully tempestuous, and with great danger and difficulty Mrs. E. reached the shore in an open boat, scarcely capable of containing four persons. At length, however, the whole of the crew were safely landed, and immediately collected whatever could be saved from the floating wreck, and placed the articles under a sailcloth tent.
The winter had now set in with such rigour that it was totally impossible to travel far in search of fishing settlements. Under these afflicting circumstances, it was resolved to erect a hut for the officers, and another for the crew, by which means they hoped to secure themselves against the piercing cold of the climate. It was in this miserable state that the youthful and delicate Mrs. E-- lingered through a long and dismal winter, upon a rocky coast, blocked up with an ocean of frozen fragments, and surrounded on the land side by snowy mountains and icy valleys. Both the lady and her companions were compelled to cut off their hair entirely; it was so strung with icicles that it became exceedingly painful and troublesome. To add to the sufferings of this unfortunate lady, she found herself enceinte. The crew mutinied, swearing, with dreadful imprecations, that they would take away the life of her husband, because he had prudently refused them an immoderate share of the brandy that had been saved from the wreck, and the barbarous wretches even threw firebrands into the hut where she lay, although their whole stock of gunpowder was stowed within its walls. At length the much wished-for season of spring made its appearance, but instead of comfort it brought additional misery. Hitherto, the affectionate attentions of her fond husband had been the solace and support of her life, but in the attempt to land a few casks of salted beef from the remains of the wreck, the boat overset, and he was drowned. Left thus destitute and friendless, among a gang of desperate miscreants, she, had still courage to bear up against their brutal conduct, and as the summer advanced she followed them barefooted through the woods, until they reached the fishing settlements in Bonne Bay. She was here but badly provided with food and necessaries, and was therefore easily prevailed on to go in a small vessel bound for Forteau, where she hoped to procure a passage for Quebec. On her arrival at Forteau she took up her abode at the house of a Guernsey fisherman. Misfortune still attended her footsteps, and she was compelled by the conduct of her host to leave his house. At this moment Mr. Pinson generously offered her that asylum which her hardships, her sufferings, and, above all, her delicate situation demanded. By the earliest opportunity the good merchant procured her a passage back to her parents; he also defrayed the passage money from his own purse, and supplied her plentifully with necessaries for her voyage. We afterwards heard that Mrs. E- reached Quebec in safety, and shortly after gave birth to a male infant.
The East India Company's armed schooner the Ganges was lost off Calcutta, in January, 1799 owing to the spontaneous combustion of a small quantity of wood oil, contained in a leathern jar, which was stowed in the after gun-room. The fire broke out about eight o'clock at night. Captain Wade instantly directed all the powder that was in the gunroom and cabin to be quickly removed, while the greater part of the officers and men were employed in throwing water into the after gun-room. The fire, however, was not to be subdued; and Captain Wade, while continuing to employ every exertion for that purpose, directed his officers to get the boat out, and to keep it clear, a little a-head of the schooner. This was no sooner done than thirty or forty people leaped on board, and the officers found it indispensably necessary to put off, in order to prevent the boat from being surcharged. The captain and those who remained with the schooner persevered in the most spirited exertions to extinguish the fire; but it gained ground, in spite of all their efforts. The people, every moment in dread of the vessel blowing up, crowded forward upon her bows, bowsprit, jibboom, &c. In this alarming situation, Captain Wade, with great composure, proceeded to prepare rafts. When stepping aft with his two boatswains, and some others, to cut away the mainmast, that it might serve as a spar, at this instant the fire communicated to the magazine, which exploded with great violence, tearing up the deck from the tafferel to several feet before the mainmast. By this accident eight men were killed, the second boatswain had his leg broken, and Captain Wade was thrown several feet forwards. At length recovering himself, he found that the flames had nearly ceased, most of the parts that were on fire having been blown up with the magazine. He was encouraged, therefore, to renew his efforts to save the remains of the schooner; but, unfortunately, a part of the burning materials had been carried up by the explosion into the main-top, and communicating to the rigging, set the whole on fire. The blazing fragments which fell down from time to time, rekindled the flame in various parts of the hull: and most of the water buckets and other implements having been blown overboard, all hope was gone of being able to save any part of the wreck. No time was left to deliberate, and but little for a last exertion. Whatever things could be met with to answer the purpose, were hastily lashed together, and put overboard as a raft, to which all the men on board, amounting to fifty-nine, were obliged to commit their safety. The poor boatswain, who from his broken leg was almost unable to move, was assisted to the raft; and all hands having got hold, it was pushed from alongside. The cable being previously cut, the raft and the schooner drifted with the ebb tide within pistol shot of each other, when the wreck suddenly went down; a circumstance that rendered their situation more dismal, as the disappearance of the light lessened the chance of the expected boats from the Laurel, which lay at a short distance, from falling in with them. Captain Wade proposed that they should now and then raise a general shout, as the boats might perhap's be within hearing, though they might not be able to discern them. The expedient was successful. After the lapse of six hours in the water, passed under an awful anxiety, the sound of the pulling of oars inspired them with unspeakable joy; and in the course of half an hour they were taken up by the Laurel's boat, and safely carried on board, where they were received with the kindness due to their misfortunes.
The hired transport Harpooner was lost near Newfoundland, in November, 1818; she had on board 385 men, women, and children, including the ship's company. The passengers consisted of detachments of several regiments, with their families, who were on their way to Quebec. On Saturday evening, November 10, a few minutes after nine o'clock, the second mate on watch called out, 'the ship's aground,' at which she slightly struck on the outermost rock of St. Shotts, in the island of Newfoundland. She beat over, and proceeded a short distance, when she struck again, and filled: encircled among rocks, the wind blowing strong, the night dark, and a very heavy sea rolling, she soon fell over on her larboard beam-ends; and, to heighten the terror and alarm, a lighted candle communicated fire to some spirits in the master's cabin, which, in the confusion, was with difficulty extinguished.
The ship still driving over the rocks, her masts were cut away, by which some men were carried overboard. The vessel drifted over near the high rocks towards the main. In this situation every one became terrified: the suddenness of the sea rushing in carried away the berths and stauncheons between decks, when men, women, and children were drowned, and many were killed by the force with which they were driven against the loose baggage, casks, and staves which floated below. All that possibly could got upon deck; but from the crowd and confusion that prevailed, the orders of the officers and master to the soldiers and seamen were unavailing; death staring every one in the face; the ship striking on the rocks as though she would instantly upset. The shrieking and pressing of the people to the starboard side was so violent, that several were much hurt. About eleven o'clock, the boats on the deck were washed overboard by a heavy sea; but even from the commencement of the disaster, the hopes of any individual being saved were but very small.
From this time, until four o'clock the next morning, all on the wreck were anxiously praying for the light to break upon them. The boat from the stern was in the meanwhile lowered down, when the first mate and four seamen, at the risk of their lives, pushed off to the shore. They with difficulty effected a landing upon the main land, behind a high rock, nearest to where the stern of the vessel had been driven. The log-line was thrown from the wreck, with a hope that they might lay hold of it; but darkness, and the tremendous surf that beat, rendered it impracticable.
During this awful time of suspense, the possibility of sending a line to them by a dog occurred to the master: the animal was brought aft, and thrown into the sea with a line tied round his middle, and with it he swam towards the rock upon which the mate and seamen were standing. It is impossible to describe the sensations which were excited at seeing this faithful dog struggling with the waves; and reaching the summit of the rock, repeatedly dashed back again by the surf into the sea: until at length, by unceasing exertions, he effected a landing. One end of the line being on board, a stronger rope was hauled and fastened to the rock.
At about six o'clock in the morning of the 11th, the first person was landed by this means; and afterwards, by an improvement in rigging the rope, and placing each individual in slings, they were with greater facility extricated from the wreck: but during the passage thither it was with the utmost difficulty that the unfortunate sufferers could maintain their hold, as; the sea beat over them; some were dragged to the shore in a state of insensibility. Lieutenant Wilson was lost, being unable to hold on the rope with his hands: he was twice struck by the sea, fell backwards out of the slings, and after swimming for a considerable time amongst the floating wreck, by which he was struck on the head, he perished. Many who threw themselves overboard, trusting for their safety to swimming, were lost: they were dashed to pieces by the surf on the rocks, or by the floating of the wreck.
The rope at length, by constant working, and by swinging across the sharp rock, was cut in two; there being no means of replacing it, the spectacle became more than ever terrific; the sea beating over the wreck with great violence, washed numbers overboard; and at last the wreck breaking up at the stern from midships and forecastle, precipitated all that remained into one common destruction.
Her parting was noticed by those on shore, and signified with the most dreadful cry of 'GO Forward!' It is difficult to paint the horror of the scene. Children clinging to their parents for help; parents themselves struggling with death, and stretching out their feeble arms to save their children, dying within their grasp.
The total number of persons lost was two hundred and eight, and one hundred and seventy-seven were saved.
Lieutenant Mylrea, of the 4th Veteran Battalion, one of the oldest subalterns in the service, and then upwards of seventy years of age, was the last person who quitted the wreck; when he had seen every other person either safe, or beyond the power of assistance, he threw himself on to a rock, from which he was afterwards rescued.
Among the severest sufferers was the daughter of Surgeon Armstrong, who lost on this fatal night her father, mother, brother, and two sisters!
The rock which the survivors were landed upon, was about one hundred feet above the water, surrounded at the flowing of the tide.
On the top of this rock they were obliged to remain during the whole of the night, without shelter, food, or nourishment, exposed to wind and rain, and many without shoes. The only comfort that presented itself was a fire, which was made from pieces of the wreck that had been washed ashore.
At daylight on the morning of the 12th, at low water, their removal to the opposite land was effected, some being let down by a rope, others slipping down a ladder to the bottom. After they crossed over, they directed their course to a house, or fisherman's shed, distant about a mile and a half from the wreck, where they remained until the next day; the proprietor of this miserable shed not having the means of supplying relief to so considerable a number as took refuge, a party went over land to Trepassy, about fourteen miles distant, through a marshy country, not inhabited by any human creature. This party arrived at Trepassy, and reported the event to Messrs. Jackson, Burke, Sims, and the Rev. Mr. Brown, who immediately took measures for alleviating the distressed by despatching men with provisions and spirits, to assist in bringing all those forward to Trepassy who could walk.
On the 13th, in the evening, the major part of the survivors (assisted by the inhabitants, who during the journey carried the weak and feeble upon their backs) arrived at Trepassy, where they were billeted, by order of the magistrate, proportionably upon each house.
There still remained at St. Shotts, the wife of a serjeant of the veteran battalion, with a child, of which she was delivered on the top of the rocks shortly after she was saved. A private, whose leg was broken, and a woman severely bruised by the wreck, were also necessarily left there.
Immediately after the arrival at Trepassy, measures were adopted for the comfort and refreshment of the detachment, and boats were provided for their removal to St. John's, where they ultimately arrived in safety.
In the dreadful hurricane which took place at Antigua, on the 4th of September, 1804, several vessels were lost; and among others, the Duke of Cumberland packet. Every precaution had been taken by striking the yards and masts, to secure the vessel; and the cable had held so long that some faint hope began to be entertained of riding out the gale, when several of the crew were so indiscreet as to quit the deck for some refreshment; no sooner had they sat down than a loud groan from the rest of the crew summoned them on deck. The captain ran forward, and exclaimed, 'All's now over! Lord have mercy upon us!' The cable had parted; the ship hung about two minutes by the stream and kedge, and then began to drive broadside on. At this moment the seamen, torn by despair, seemed for a moment to forget themselves: lamentations for their homes, their wives, and their children, resounded through the ship. Every man clung to a rope, and determined to stick to it as long as the ship remained entire. For an hour they drifted on without knowing whither, the men continuing to hold fast by the rigging, while their bodies were beaten by the heaviest rain, and lashed by every wave. The most dreadful silence prevailed. Every one was too intent on his own approaching end to be able to communicate his feelings to another, and nothing was heard but the howling of the tempest. The vessel drove towards the harbour of St. John's, and two alarm guns were fired, in order that the garrison might be spectators of their fate, for it was in vain to think of assistance. They soon drove against a large ship, and went close under her stern. A faint hope now appeared of being stranded on a sandy beach; and the captain therefore ordered the carpenter to get the hatchets all ready to cut away the masts, in order to make a raft for those who chose to venture on it. The vessel, however, drove with extreme violence on some rocks, and the crackling of her timbers below was distinctly heard. Every hope now vanished, and the crew already began to consider themselves as beings of another world
In order to ease the vessel, and if possible prevent her from passing, the mizenmast and foremasts were cut away, the mainmast being suffered to remain, in order to steady the vessel. The vessel had struck about two o'clock, and in half an hour afterwards the water was up to the lower deck. Never was daylight more anxiously wished for than by the crew of this vessel. After having hung so long by the shrouds, they were forced to cling three hours longer before the dawn appeared. The sea was making a complete breach over the ship, which was laying on her beam ends; and the crew, stiff and benumbed, could with difficulty hold against the force of the waves, every one of which struck and nearly drowned them.
The break of day discovered to the wretched mariners all the horrors of their situation; the vessel was lying upon large rocks, at the foot of a craggy overhanging precipice, twice as high as the ship's mainmast; the wind and rain beat upon the crew with unabated violence, and the ship lay a miserable wreck. The first thoughts of the crew in the morning were naturally directed to the possibility of saving their lives: and they all agreed that their only chance of doing so was by means of the mizenmast. The topmast and topgallantmast were launched out, and reached within a few feet of the rock. An attempt was made by one of the crew to throw a rope with a noose to the top of the rock: but instead of holding by the bushes, it brought them away. Another seaman, who seemed from despair to have imbibed an extraordinary degree of courage, followed the first man out on the mast, with the intention of throwing himself from the end upon the mercy of the rock; he had proceeded to the extremity of the topgallantmast, and was on the point of leaping among the bushes, when the pole of the mast, unable to sustain his weight, gave way, and precipitated him into the bosom of the waves, from a height of forty feet. Fortunately, he had carried down with him the piece of the broken mast, and instead of being dashed to pieces, as was expected, he kept himself above water until he was hoisted up. All hopes of being saved by the mizenmast were now at an end; and while the crew were meditating in sullen silence on their situation, Mr. Doncaster, the chief mate, unknown to any one, went out on the bowsprit, and having reached the end of the jibboom, threw himself headlong into the water. He had scarcely fallen when a tremendous wave threw him upon the rock, and left him dry; there he remained motionless until a second wave washed him still further up, when clinging to some roughness in the cliff, he began to scramble up the rock; and in about half an hour he, with infinite difficulty, reached the summit of the cliff. The crew anxiously watched every step he took, and prayed for his safety, conscious that their own preservation depended solely upon it. Mr. Doncaster immediately went round to that part of the precipice nearest the vessel, and received a rope thrown from the maintop, which he fastened to some trees. By means of this rope the whole of the crew were, in the space of three hours, hoisted to the top of the cliff. The whole of the ship's company having assembled on the rock, bent their steps towards town. The plain before them had, in consequence of the heavy rains, become almost impassable; but after wading about three miles through fields of canes, and often plunged up to the neck in water, they reached St. John's in safety, where they would have died for want of food and necessaries, had it not been for the kind offices of a Mulatto tailor, who supplied them with clothes, beds, and provisions.
Mr. Powell, the commander of the Queen Charlotte, was, in the year 1817, fortunate enough to recover from a rock twenty-one miles N. W. of Nooaheevah, one of the Marquesas, a man that had been its solitary inhabitant for nearly three years. His account stated, that early in 1814 he proceeded thither from Nooaheevah with four others, all of whom had left an American ship there, for the purpose of procuring feathers that were in high estimation among the natives of Nooaheevah; but losing their boat on the rock, three of his companions in a short time perished through famine, and principally from thirst, as there was no water but what was supplied by rain. His fourth companion continued with him but a few weeks; when he formed a resolution of attempting to swim, with the aid of a splintered fragment that remained of their boat, to the island, in which effort he must have inevitably perished. He had once himself attempted to quit his forlorn situation, by constructing a catamaran, but failed, and lost all means of any future attempt. They had originally taken fire with them from Nooaheevah, which he had always taken care to continue, except on one occasion, it became extinguished, and never could have been restored but by a careful preservation of three or four grains of gunpowder, and the lock of a musket, which he had broken up for the construction of his catamaran. The flesh and blood of wild birds were his sole aliment; with the latter he quenched his thirst in seasons of long dryness. The discovery made of him from the Queen Charlotte was purely accidental; the rock was known to be desolate and barren: and the appearance of a fire, as the vessel passed it on an evening, attracted notice, and produced an enquiry which proved fortunate to the forlorn inhabitant of the rock, in procuring his removal to Nooaheevah; whither Mr. Powell conveyed him, and left him under the care of an European of the name of Wilson, who had resided there for many years, and with whom the hermit had had a previous acquaintance.
The Active, a South Sea Whaler, commanded by Captain Baker, having landed part of her crew to seek seals on a small island, about a mile and a half from the main of New Zealand, in February, 1809, sailed for Port Jackson, in order to get a supply of provisions, but was lost in the passage. In consequence of this disaster, David Lowriesten and the mate, and nine British seamen, were left nearly four years on this desert island, with a very scanty allowance of provisions. They had a whale boat but their only edged instruments consisted of an axe, an adze, and a cooper's drawing knife. Their boat was soon destroyed by a tremendous hurricane, which prevented their making any excursions to the neighbouring island for food; and the only nourishment the place afforded, was a species of fern root, resembling a yam when cut, and possessing some of the properties of the cassada. This they could only procure at a distance of six or seven miles from their hut; and unfortunately, but a very scanty supply could be obtained. When their provisions were exhausted, they supported themselves on the flesh of seals, and some few aquatic birds; and when their clothes were entirely worn out, they were obliged to attire themselves in seal skins.
The contrivances of these men to preserve their existence, and protect themselves from the occasional severity of the weather, were innumerable. They were obliged to seek shelter at times in caves, dug out by incredible labour in the side of the mountains on that part of the island where they landed, and which was separated from the opposite side by an immense chain of high and impassable mountains from north to south, to the extreme points of land at each end. They made some efforts to get over these mountains, in order to reach the opposite side of the island, where they hoped to find inhabitants and some provisions; but after scrambling up some of them, they found they had others still higher to surmount, and the tract appeared as utterly barren as it was boundless. Being exceedingly weak, from the wretched manner in which they had so long subsisted, they relinquished their purpose, after advancing about nine miles into the country, and returned to their former hut, where they might at least prolong an existence, which, however wretched, was still dear to them, under the faint hope of being at some time or other, providentially delivered
The land was so barren, and unproductive of any indigenous vegetables fit to make part of their sustenance, that seals and a few birds were for two years their only food; and they were often without either. At one time, they were seven days and nights without any food or water whatever. With the few tools they possessed they built a small boat but it cost them immense labour, as being without saws, they could only cut one board out of each tree. The hoops upon their provision casks were beaten into nails; and by the same patient and laborious process, they at length projected the building of a small vessel, and had provided eighty half-inch boards for the purpose, all cut in the way above described.
Fortunately, however, this became unnecessary, as after the tedious lapse of three years and ten months, from their first landing on this inhospitable shore, they were rejoiced at the appearance of a sail at some considerable distance from the land. This proved to be the colonial schooner, Governer Bligh, commanded by Mr. Grono, who took them all on board, and afterwards landed them safely in Port Jackson, Botany Bay, whence Lowriesten and some others of the crew returned to England.
The Prince George man-of-war, commanded by Admiral Broderick, when cruising off Lisbon, in the year 1758, was destroyed by fire; and out of a crew of 745 persons, 200 only were saved. The fire commenced in the fore part of the ship, in the boatswain's store room, to which place large quantities of water were applied, but in vain, the smoke being so violent that no person could get near enough. The powder was immediately floated, to prevent the vessel from blowing up; and an attempt was made to scuttle the decks, to let the water on the fire; but the people could not stand a minute without being almost suffocated. At length the lower gun-deck ports were opened, but the water that flowed in was not sufficient to subdue the flames. The fire soon increased so rapidly, that the destruction of the ship was inevitable, and the preservation of the Admiral was first consulted. Captain Payton went on deck, and ordered the barge to be manned, into which the admiral entered, with nearly forty more indiscriminately; for now there was no distinction, every man considering his life equally precious. The admiral fearing the barge would overset, stripped himself naked, and committed himself to the mercy of the waves; and after toiling an hour, he was at length taken up by a merchantman's boat. The boat afterwards sunk, and not above three or four that were in it were saved. The captain kept the quarter-deck an hour after the admiral left it, when he happily got into a boat from the stern ladder, and was put safe on board the Alderney sloop; as was the chaplain, who jumped into the sea from one of the gun-room ports, and swam to a boat.
The long-boat was next endeavoured to be got out by those still left on board, and near a hundred people got into it; but as they were hoisting it out one of the tackles gave way, by which she overset, and almost every soul perished. The ship was now in flames fore and aft, spreading like flax; the people ran to and fro distracted, and not knowing what to do, jumped into the sea from all parts; very few of them were taken up. Several who could not swim remained upon the wreck, with the fire falling down upon them. Shortly after the masts went away, and killed numbers; and those that escaped this calamity thought themselves happy to get upon them; but the ship rolling by means of the great sea, the fire communicated to the guns, which, being loaded and shotted, swept off great numbers of those who were struggling amid the water.
The vessel had now been burning four hours, when Mr. Parry, an officer on board, went into the admiral's stern gallery, where he found two young gentlemen, passengers, lashing two tables together for a raft. One of them proposed to make fast the lashing to the gallery, and lower themselves down on the tables, then cut the lashing, and commit themselves to the mercy of Providence. The tables were hoisted over; but being badly lashed, one of them was lost. Mr. Parry ventured first on the remaining table, but a great swell at the instant rendered it impossible for any one to follow him, and he was immediately turned adrift. By the cries of the people from the ship to the boats, he was seen, and afterwards taken up, though nearly drowned. Not less than 485 persons perished. The calamity would not, however, have been so disastrous had the merchantmen, of which there were many near the wreck, behaved well; but they not only kept aloof, but instead of saving the men that swam to their boats, were employed in picking up geese, fowls, and whatever else (their fellow-creatures excepted) that came near them. How truly might these wretched sufferers exclaim-
'Man is to man a monster-hearted stone;
ith Heav'n there's mercy, but with man there's none.'
Captain David Harrison, who commanded a sloop, of New York, called the Peggy, has left a melancholy narrative of the sufferings of himself and his crew, when in a voyage from Fayal, one of the Azores, in 1769. A storm, which had continued for some days successively, blew away the sails and shrouds, and on the 1st of December one shroud on a side and the mainsail alone remained. In this situation they could make very little way, and all their provisions were exhausted, except bread, of which but a small quantity was left; they came at last to an allowance of a quarter of a pound ? day, with a quart of water and a pint of wine for each man.
The ship was now become very leaky; the waves were swelled into mountains by the storm, and the thunder rolled incessantly over their heads in one dreadful, almost unintermitting peal. In this frightful dilemma, either of sinking with the wreck, or floating in her and perishing with hunger, two vessels came in sight; but such was the tempest, that neither could approach, and they saw the vessels that would willingly have relieved them disappear with sensations more bitter than death itself. The allowance of bread and water, though still farther contracted, soon exhausted their stores, and every morsel of food was finished, and only about two gallons of water remained in the bottom of a cask. The poor fellows who, while they had any sustenance, continued obedient to the captain, were now driven by desperation to excess; they seized upon the cargo, and because wine and brandy were all they had left, they drank of both till the frenzy of hunger was increased by drunkenness, and exclamations of distress were blended with curses and blasphemy. The dregs of the water cask were abandoned to the captain, who, abstaining as much as possible from wine, husbanded them with the greatest economy.
In the midst of these horrors, this complication of want and of excess, of distraction and despair, they espied another sail. Every eye was instantly turned towards it; the signal of distress was hung out, and they had the unspeakable satisfaction of being near enough to the ship to communicate their situation. Relief was promised by the captain; but this, alas! was but 'the mockery of woe;' and instead of sending the relief he had promised, the unfeeling wretch crowded all sail, and left the distressed crew to all the agony of despair which misery and disappointment could occasion.
The crew once more deserted, and cut off from their last hope, were still prompted by an intuitive love of life to preserve it as long as possible. The only living creatures on board the vessel, besides themselves, were two pigeons and a cat. The pigeons were killed immediately, and divided amongst them for their Christmas dinner. The next day they killed the cat; and as there were nine persons to partake of the repast, they divided her into nine parts, which they disposed of by lot. The head fell to the share of Captain Harrison, and he declared that he never eat anything that he thought so delicious in his life.
The next day the crew began to scrape the ship's bottom for barnacles; but the waves had beaten off those above water, and the men were too weak to hang long over the ship's side. During all this time the poor wretches sought only to forget their misery in intoxication; and while they were continually heating wine in the steerage, the captain subsisted upon the dirty water at the bottom of the cask, half a pint of which, with a few drops of Turlington's Balsam, was his whole subsistence for twenty-four hours.
To add to their calamity, they had neither candle nor oil, and they were in consequence compelled to pass sixteen hours out of the twenty-four in total darkness, except the glimmering light of the fire. Still, however, by the help of their only sail, they made a little way; but on the 28th of December another storm overtook them, which blew their only sail to rags. The vessel now lay like a wreck on the water, and was wholly at the mercy of the winds and waves.
How they subsisted from this time to the 13th of January, sixteen days, does not appear, as their biscuit had been long exhausted, and the last bit of animal food which they tasted was the cat on the 26th of December; yet on the 13th of January they were all alive, and the crew, with the mate at their head, came to the captain in the cabin, half drunk indeed, but with sufficient sensibility to express the horror of their purpose in their countenances. They said that they could hold out no longer; their tobacco was exhausted; they had eaten up all the leather belonging to the pump, and even the buttons from their jackets; and that now they had no means of preventing their perishing together but by casting lots which of them should be sacrificed for the sustenance of the rest. The captain endeavoured to divert them from their purpose until the next day, but in vain; they became outrageous, and with execrations of peculiar horror, swore that what was to be done must be done immediately; that it was indifferent to them whether he acquiesced or dissented; and that though they had paid him the compliment of acquainting trim with their resolution, yet they would compel him to take his chance with the rest, for general misfortune put an end to personal distinction.
The captain resisted, but in vain; the men retired to decide on the fate of some victim, and in a few minutes returned, and said the lot had fallen on the negro, who was part of the cargo. The poor fellow knowing what had been determined against him, and seeing one of the crew loading a pistol to despatch him, implored the captain to save his life; but he was instantly dragged to the steerage, and shot through the head.
Having made a large fire, they began to cut the negro up almost as soon as he was dead, intending to fry his entrails for supper; but James Campbell, one of the foremast men, being ravenously impatient for food, tore the liver out of the body, and devoured it raw; the remainder of the crew, however, dressed the meat, and continued their dreadful banquet until two o'clock in the morning.
The next day the crew pickled the remainder of the negro's body, except the head and fingers, which, by common consent, they threw overboard. The captain refused to taste any part of it, and continued to subsist on the dirty water. On the third day after the death of the negro, Campbell, who had devoured the liver raw, died raving mad, and his body was thrown overboard, the crew dreading the consequences of eating it. The negro's body was husbanded with rigid economy, and lasted the crew, now consisting of six persons, from the 13th to the 26th of January, when they were again reduced to total abstinence, except their wine. This they endured until the 29th, when the mate again came to the captain at the head of the men, and told him it was now become necessary that they should cast lots a second time. The captain endeavoured again to reason them from their purpose, but without success: and therefore considering that if they managed the lot without him, he might not have foul play, consented to see it decided.
The lot now fell upon David Flat, a foremast man. The shock of the decision was so great that the whole company remained motionless and silent for some time; when the poor victim, who appeared perfectly resigned, broke silence, and said, 'My dear friends, messmates, and fellow sufferers, all I have to beg of you is to despatch me as soon as you did the negro, and to put me to as little torture as possible.' Then turning to one Doud, the man who shot the negro, he said, ' It is my desire that you should shoot me.' Doud reluctantly consented. The victim begged a short time to prepare himself for death, to which his companions most readily agreed. Flat was much respected by the whole ship's company, and during this awful interval they seemed inclined to save his life; yet finding no alternative but to perish with him, and having in some measure lulled their sense of horror at the approaching scene by a few draughts of wine, they prepared for the execution, and a fire was kindled in the steerage to dress their first meal as soon as their companion should become their food.
As the dreadful moment approached, their compunction increased, and friendship and humanity at length triumphed over hunger and death. They determined that Flat should live at least until eleven o'clock the next morning, hoping, as they said, that the Divine Goodness would in the meantime open some other source of relief. At the same time they begged the captain to read prayers; a task which, with the utmost effort of his collected strength, he was scarcely able to perform. As soon as prayers were over, the company went to their unfortunate friend Flat, and with great earnestness and affection expressed their hopes that God would interpose for his preservation; and assuring him, that though they never yet could catch or even see a fish, yet they would put out all their hooks again, to try if any relief could be procured.
Poor Flat, however, could derive little comfort from the concern they expressed; and it is not improbable that their friendship and affection increased the agitation of his mind; such, however, it was, that he could not sustain it, for before midnight he grew almost deaf, and by four o'clock in the morning was raving mad. His messmates, who discovered the alteration, debated whether it would not be an act of humanity to despatch him immediately; but the first resolution, of sparing him till eleven o'clock, prevailed.
About eight in the morning, as the captain was ruminating in his cabin on the fate of this unhappy wretch, who had but three hours to live, two of his people came hastily down, with uncommon ardour in their looks, and seizing both his hands, fixed their eyes upon him without saying a word. A sail had been discovered, and the sight had so far overcome them that they were for some time unable to speak. The account of a vessel being in sight of signals struck the captain with such excessive and tumultuous joy, that he was very near expiring under it. As soon as he could speak, he directed every possible signal of distress. His orders were obeyed with the utmost alacrity; and as he lay in his cabin, he had the inexpressible happiness of hearing them jumping upon deck, and crying out, 'She nighs us, she nighs us! she is standing this way.'
The approach of the ship being more and more manifest every moment, their hopes naturally increased, and they proposed a can to be taken immediately for joy. The captain dissuaded them all from it, except the mate, who retired and drank it to himself.
After continuing to observe the progress of the vessel for some hours, with all the tumult and agitation of mind that such a suspense could not fail to produce, they had the mortification to find the gale totally die away, so that the vessel was becalmed at only two miles' distance. They did not, however, suffer long from this circumstance, for in a few minutes they saw a boat put out from the ship's stern, and row towards them full manned, and with vigorous despatch. As they had been twice before confident of deliverance, and disappointed, and as they still considered themselves tottering on the brink of eternity, the conflict between their hopes and fears during the approach of the boat was dreadful. At length, however, she came alongside; but the appearance of the crew was so ghastly that the men rested upon their oars, and with looks of inconceivable astonishment, asked what they were?
Being at length satisfied, they came on board, and begged the people to use the utmost expedition in quitting the wreck, lest they should be overtaken by a gale of wind, that would prevent their getting back to the ship. The captain, being unable to stir, was lifted out of his cabin, and lowered into the boat by ropes; his people followed him, with poor Flat still raving, and they were just putting off, when one of them observed that the mate was still wanting. He was immediately called to, and the can of joy had just left him power to crawl to the gunnel, with a look of idiotic astonishment, having to all appearance forgot everything that had happened. The poor drunken creature was with difficulty got into the boat, and in about an hour they all reached the ship in safety, which was the Susannah, of London, commanded by Captain Thomas Evers. He received them with the greatest tenderness and humanity, and promised to lay by the wreck until the next morning, that he might, if possible, save some of Captain Harrison's property; but the wind blowing very hard before night, he was obliged to quit her, and she probably, with her cargo, went to the bottom before morning.
The crew had been without provisions forty-five days. The mate, James Doud, who shot the negro, and one Warner, a seaman, died on the passage. The remainder, including Flat, who continued mad during the voyage, arrived safe in the Susannah, in the Downs, in the beginning of March; whence Captain Harrison proceeded on shore, and made the proper attestation on oath of the facts related in this melancholy narrative.
In the year 1761, a French slave ship, the Utile, commanded by M. de la Fague, was wrecked off Sandy Isle. The officers, with the crew and slaves, saved themselves on this little island, which is only about 1100 yards in length, and 600 in breadth: the highest part not being more than fifteen feet above the level of the sea. They remained here six months, during which time they constructed a bark, in which all the whites got on board; and after a short passage, reached St: Mary's, a small island on the east side of Madagascar. The negroes remained on the shoal, vainly expecting aid from those who had sailed; but,
'see the monstrousness of man,
hen he looks out in an ungrateful shape!
e does deny him, in respect of his,
hat charitable men afford to beggars.
eligion groans at it.'
Humanity is shocked at the idea, that these wretched men, who had largely contributed to the preservation of those who left them, were abandoned to die a miserable death, without the smallest exertion being made to save them.
Fifteen years afterwards, namely, on the 28th of November, 1776, M. Tromelin, commanding a corvette, La Dauphine, fell in with Sandy Isle, and succeeding in overcoming the difficulties opposed to his landing on this dangerous bank, took the melancholy remains, not of the crew, but of the cargo of the Utile, into his vessel, and carried them to the Isle of France. Eighty negroes and negresses had perished, some of want and disease, others in attempting to save themselves on rafts. Only seven regresses were able, during fifteen years, to resist the most deplorable miseries that can be pourtrayed. The bank on which they had been so cruelly deserted, is quite sterile, and exposed to all the fury of the tempest. The negroes had built a hut out of the wreck of the vessel, and covered it with the shells of turtles. Feathers curiously and artfully interwoven by the regresses, formed their clothing. On this bank the seven survivors had lived fifteen years, preserving themselves solely on shell fish and brackish water. At the period of their deliverance, they carried along with them a young child; the child of misery, which had been born in this desert spot, and which was enfeebled by the extreme weakness of the mother. The regresses reported that they had seen five vessels during the time of their captivity. The boat of one of them endeavoured to land; but from the apprehension of shipwreck, suddenly put off with such precipitation, that a sailor remained on the island. This man seeing himself abandoned by his comrades while exerting himself in the cause of humanity, took the desperate resolution of trying to reach Madagascar in a raft, on which he embarked along with three negroes and regresses, about three weeks before La Dauphine arrived; but they were never heard of.
An English gentleman and his lady, who were on their passage to the East Indies, in one of the vessels of an English fleet, paid a visit to the admiral's ship, leaving two young children in the care of a negro servant, who was about eighteen years of age. A violent storm arising during their absence, the ship containing the two children was fast sinking, when a boat arrived from the admiral's ship for their relief. The crew eagerly crowded to the boas; but the negro lad finding there was only room for him alone, or the two children, generously put them on board, and remained himself on the wreck, which, with the generous boy, was immediately engulfed in the ocean.
This interesting circumstance has been made the subject of the following lines, by Sellbeck Osborn:
'Tremendous howls the angry blast!
he boldest hearts with terror quake!
igh o'er the vessel's tottering mast
he liquid mountains fiercely break!
ach eye is fix'd in wild despair,
nd death displays its terrors there!
ow plunging in the dread abyss,
hey pierce the bosom of the deep;
ow rise where vivid lightnings hiss,
nd seem the murky clouds to sweet
hro' the dark waste dread thunders roll,
nd horrors chill the frigid soul!
he storm abates; but shattered sore,
he leaky vessel drinks the brine;
hey seek in vain some friendly shore,
heir spirits sink, their hopes decline!
ut, lo! what joy succeeds their grief,
ind Heaven grants the wish'd relief.
ee, on the deck, young Marco stands,
wo blooming cherubs by his side,
ntrusted to his faithful hands;
A mother's joy, a father's pride;"
ho' black his skin, as shades of night,
is heart is fair; his soul is white!
ach to the yawl with rapture flies,
xcept the noble generous boy;
Go, lovely infants, go," he cries,
nd give your anxious parents joy.
o mother will for Marco weep,
hen fate entombs him in the deep!
ong have my kindred ceas'd to grieve,
o sister kind my fate shall mourn;
o breast for me a sigh will heave,
o bosom friend wait my return!"
e said, and sinking, sought the happy shore,
here toil and slavery vex his soul no more.'
The Modeste frigate, of twenty-four guns and seventy men, including passengers, bound from Marseilles to Cape Francois, was destroyed by lightning in September, 1766. It was on the evening of the 19th of that month, about half an hour past eleven o'clock, that the vessel was struck. The lightning beat down most of the persons on board. Several of the sailors were so much hurt, that they had hardly strength enough to rise, but no dives were lost. The vessel had, however, caught fire in the hold, and although water was poured down in great quantities, yet it did not subdue it. The smoke still increasing, the captain ordered the officers to put out the two boats, which they did with too much haste, and threw themselves almost headlong into them. The remainder of the melancholy narrative is extracted from the deposition of the captain, Jules Gayet, who proceeds:- 'We opened every place for the water to come into the hold, but all our efforts were in vain, and the horror of the night added to the dreadful death which presented itself, seemed to add fierceness to the flames which enclosed us. The fire then reached the long-boat, and deprived us of the last resource. The progress of the flames was very rapid; the mainmast fell half-burnt, and the whole stern of the vessel was on fire. The rest of the crew and passengers pressed forward, and held out their hands to the shore, which was not far from us: there was no time to deliberate; we were to perish in the flames, or throw ourselves into the sea, with the faint hopes of saving ourselves on some pieces of the wreck. Between twelve and one the flames reached us. The people cried, ' Save yourself, captain, you are yet in time.' We looked about us, and exhorted each other to give assistance, while we were climbing from rope to rope; and in proportion as we went from the fire, we came nearer to the other element, supporting ourselves on the fallen masts and rigging, which served us as a float.
'Saturday, 20. - As the morning grew lighter, we were able to reckon up five-and-thirty persons, myself included; and in this terrible situation we continued for four days, and Providence, whom I did not cease to implore, was pleased to preserve us, to the number of nineteen. The children were among the first who died; they were followed by those of the crew who were least able to undergo the fatigue; and we who were left, had tattle hopes of passing another night. Several people lost their senses, and asked me who should be killed first to serve as food for the rest, and one man asked me very calmly for money to buy bread and meat. Those who were so exhausted that they could hold no longer to the mast, gave us notice of their death by the noise of their fall; and, by the motion in which they thereby put the mast, obliged us all to swallow the salt water. I encouraged, as well as I could, those who still retained their senses; but my voice and strength both began to fail me. The first favour of heaven was a calm, which enabled us to support ourselves with less difficulty.
'We had now, for two nights, beheld the ship in flames, and were in additional danger from the fire of our artillery, which went off as soon as it was heated by the flames. We had no news of the two boats which first left us, nor any signal from those who were on different pieces of the wreck. I myself saw the death of seventeen of those who were with me.
'At last, on Tuesday, the 23rd of September, some of my people discovered in the night, by the light of the moon, a small vessel, which did not seem to perceive us. We cried for help, but could not make ourselves be heard. Then two of the sailors left their hold, and tried to reach the vessel by swimming. Finding their strength not sufficient for this, they supported themselves on the topsail yards, and rowed with their hands. By this means they came up to the ship (which happened to be an English one), and had the happiness to find the people ready to give them every assistance in their power.
'Captain Thomas Hubbert, who was the commander, immediately sent out his boat; and about nine in the morning, being about six or seven leagues off Cape de Moulin, I was received on board the English vessel with all possible humanity. We were then nineteen in number. The captain first gave me a glass of wine, but I was able to swallow only a few drops, and those with difficulty. It was then offered to M. Fauquette, a young man of a good constitution, the son of M. de Brue; but as he was lifting it to his mouth, he was seized with convulsions, bit and broke the glass with his teeth, and fell down dead at our feet.'
The captain and the eighteen men were safely landed at Marseilles; and eleven other persons who belonged to the Modeste were afterwards saved by a Dutch ship which fell in with them.
If there is any situation in life, in which the wise dispensation of Providence, in concealing the future from us, is more strikingly manifest, than in another, it is in cases of shipwreck; for if the wretched mariner could foresee, that in escaping the fury of the elements at sea, he would have to encounter still greater and more protracted miseries or shore, he would scarcely be induced to make the efforts necessary for his preservation. But the sailor in venturing on a voyage, learns
'To bear with accidents, and every change
f various life, to struggle with adversity
o wait the leisure of the righteous gods
ill they, in their own good appointed hour,
hall bid his better days come forth at once;
long and shining train.'
The whole records of disasters at sea, do not perhaps furnish such an instance of protracted sufferings and perilous adventures, as those which the crew of the Grosvenor, East Indiaman, encountered, during a period of one hundred and seventeen days. This vessel sailed from Trincomalee, in the Island of Ceylon, for Europe, on the 13th of June, 1782. On the 3rd of August, Captain Coxon, her commander, considered himself a hundred miles from the nearest land; but on the following day, the ship struck on some rocks within three hundred yards of the shore. To save her, was impossible; destruction and despair was seen in every countenance, and the utmost confusion prevailed. Those most composed were employed in devising means to gain the shore, and set about framing a raft of such masts, yards, and spars, as could be got together, hoping by this expedient to convey the women and children, and the sick, safe to land. In the meantime a Lascar, and two Italians, attempted to swim ashore with the deep sea-line; one of the latter perished in the waves, but the others succeeded. By means of a small line, a large one, and afterwards a hawser, were conveyed to the shore; the natives, who had crowded to the water's edge, assisting the sailors. The raft being finished, it was launched overboard; but a nine-inch hawser, by which it was held, broke, and the raft driving on shore, was upset, by which three men were drowned. The yawl and jolly boat were no sooner hoisted out, than they were dashed to pieces. Several seamen gained the. land by the hawser, and others were left on board, when the vessel rent asunder fore and aft. In this distressing moment they crowded on the starboard quarter which happily floated into shoal water; by which means every one on board, even the women and children, got safe on shore, except the cook's mate, who was intoxicated, and could not be prevailed on to leave the ship.
When they had assembled on shore, they got some hogs and poultry, which had floated from the wreck, and made a repast. Two tents were made of two sails that had been driven ashore, under which the ladies reposed for the first night. Next morning, the natives, who were quite black and woolly-headed, came down, and began to carry off whatever struck their fancy; but plunder seemed to be their only object. A cask of beef, one of flour, and a leaguer of arrack, were found and delivered to the captain; who, on the morning of the 7th, called the survivors of the shipwreck together, and having divided the provisions among them, said, that as on board he had been their commanding officer, he hoped that they would still suffer him to continue his command. An unanimous, cry of, 'by all means,' was the reply. He then informed them, that from the best calculations he could make, he trusted to be able to reach some of the Dutch settlements in fifteen or sixteen days, as he intended to make to the Cape of (food Hope.
Thus encouraged, they set off cheerfully; for
'hope
Is such a bait, it covers any hook;'
and they were therefore unwilling to damp their courage by melancholy forebodings. Mr. Logie, the chief mate, having for some time been ill, was carried by two men in a hammock, slung on a pole; and in this laborious occupation, all the men cheerfully shared. A man of the name of O'Brien, being very lame, remained behind, saying, it was impossible to keep up with his shipmates, and he would therefore endeavour to get some pewter from the wreck, and make trinkets to ingratiate himself with the natives. The whole company now set forward, and soon met about thirty of the natives; among whom was one Trout, a Dutchman, who had committed murder, and had fled from justice. On learning the course they were travelling, he recapitulated the difficulties they would meet with, and gave them some good advice; but could not be prevailed on to conduct them to the Cape. The next day they were stopped by about four hundred of the savages, who, after pilfering and insulting, at last began to beat them. Concluding that they were marked for destruction, they determined to defend themselves to the last extremity. After placing the women, children, and the sick at some distance, under the protection of about a dozen of their number, the remainder consisting of eighty or ninety, engaged their opponents for two hours and a half; when getting possession of a rising ground, they forced the natives to a sort of compromise. Several of the company cut the buttons from their coats, and gave them, with other little trinkets, to the natives, who then went away, and returned no more.
In the night they were obliged to sleep in the open air, and to make a fire, in order to keep off the wild beasts, whose howlings continually disturbed them. Afresh party of the natives came and plundered them, seizing the gentlemen's watches, and examining the hair of the ladies, to see if diamonds were concealed in it. They also took away what was then of more value than diamonds, or the gold of Ophir, the tinder-box, flint, and steel which was an irreparable loss, and obliged them to travel in future with fire-brands in their hands.
After journeying together for some days, the provisions brought along with them were nearly expended; and the fatigue of travelling with the women and children being very great, the sailors began to murmur, and seemed every one determined to take care of himself. Captain Coxon, with the first mate and his wife, Colonel and Mrs. James, the purser, and several other officers, as well as seamen, with five of the children, agreed to keep together, and travel slowly as before. Captain Talbot, Mr. Shaw and Mr. Trotter, second and the fourth mate, with the remainder of the seamen, including John Hynes, being in all about forty-three, went on before. A young boy, Master Law, a passenger, seven or eight years old, crying after one of the men, it was agreed to take him with them, and to carry him by turns, whenever he should be unable to walk.
Both parties felt great pain at the separation, as they had little hopes of meeting again; but next morning early, the advancing party having waited all night by the side of a river for the ebb tide, wore overtaken, and the whole company once more united, to their great satisfaction. Two days afterwards they again separated, thinking that by travelling in separate bodies, they would be less likely to excite the jealousy of the natives. The party with the second mate, which may be designated Hynes's party, as from him the narrative is principally derived, travelled several days through untrodden paths, crossing rivers two miles broad, and frequently obliged to climb the trees to explore their way. Wild sorrel and shell fish, of which the supply was often very scanty, were their only food; until a dead whale, the liver of which could only be ate, furnished them with a more substantial, though not more agreeable meal, and a supply for some days. The party now resolved to proceed inland; and after advancing, during three days and nights, through a fine pleasant country, in which they saw many deserted villages, they came to a river which they were unable to cross. Captain Talbot was so much fatigued, that he could not proceed with the rest of the company; and his faithful coxswain remained with him behind. Neither of them were ever heard of after. Master Law was still with Hynes's party, having borne the fatigues of the journey in the most miraculous manner.
Another dead whale having been discovered, the party, with the assistance of two spike nails which they had burnt out of a plank, cut part of it, which they took in bags along with them; a dead seal was another seasonable supply, and was carefully husbanded. This party had been severely treated by the natives, and had lost five of their number, including the carpenter. The command of the company now devolved on the steward, as well as the care of the child, whom he treated with great tenderness.
On arriving at a village, they obtained a young bullock, in exchange for the inside of watch and a few buttons. They killed it with one of the lances belonging natives, and dividing it in pieces, distributed them by lot. The skin was also cut in pieces and those obtaining portions of it, made them into shoes. This was the only instance of the party being able to get any sustenance from the natives, except that the women sometimes gave the boy a little milk. A santy desert next occupied them ten days in passing, during which no natives were seen; but they afterwards came to a small village, where they got a little milk for the boy, and afterwards part of the flesh of some sea crows and sea lions, which were hung up to dry in one of the huts. Two rivers were crossed, and they now reposed two days, in hopes of their companions coming up. But ten days afterwards they discovered by some small pieces of rags scattered here and there on the way, that they were before them. Entering a large sandy desert, where little wood or water was to be seen, they observed written on the sand at the entrance of a deep valley, 'Turn in here, and you will find plenty of wood and water.' This direction they hastened to obey. and saw from the remains of fires and other traces, that their companions had rested in a recess.
The sight of thirty or forty elephants terrified them; and they were continually harassed by the natives, who killed one of their party, and wounded John Hynes. The cooper died with the fatigue, and soon afterwards the little boy, Law, whose tender frame which had borne so much suffering, at length sunk under it. This was an afflicting circumstance for the whole party, who shed a tear of sympathy over the youthful victim. They now began to suffer much from thirst, as no water could be obtained, and several of them died. Their number was now reduced to three Hynes, Evans, and Wormington, the boatswain's mate, who earnestly importuned his companions to determine by lot who should die, that by drinking his blood, the other two might be preserved; but this the others refused. They soon after came up with four of the steward's party, who appeared to have suffered as much as themselves. One person soon afterwards died; and the remaining six journeyed onwards, until they at length reached a Dutch settlement, where they were hospitably entertained by one Roostoff, who lived about three or four hundred miles from the Cape of Good Hope. Roostoff immediately ordered a sheep to be killed, on which they breakfasted and dined; and then another Dutchman, named Quin, who lived about nine miles distant, brought a cart and six horses to convey them to the Cape. It was on the 29th of November, that they reached Roostoff's dwelling, having been a hundred and seventeen days occupied in their weary journey.
They were now forwarded in carts from one settlement to another, to Zwellendam; and during the whole way, wherever they passed the night, the farmers assembled to hear their melancholy story; and moved with compassion, supplied them with many articles of which they stood in need. As a war then existed between Great Britain and Holland, two of the men were sent to the governor of the Cape, while the rest remained at Zwellen dam. The governor hearing their story, humanely sent a party, consisting of one hundred Europeans, and three hundred Hottentots, attended by a great number of waggons, each drawn by eight oxen, in order to save such articles as could be secured from the wreck; and to rescue such of the sufferers as might be discovered, or in the hands of the natives. Beads and trinkets were sent to ransom them, if necessary. The party met with no interruption from the natives for some time; but they afterwards obstructed the progress of the waggons, and the Dutch were obliged to travel further on horseback. Only twelve of the wretched sufferers, including seven Lascars and two black women, could be found, and these, with the six sailors who had first reached the Cape, were sent to England in a Danish ship.
The fate of this unfortunate company, and the belief of their being alive, excited great commiseration; and in 1790, another expedition was fitted out to go in quest of them: but without success, although the reports of the natives induced the belief that some of them were still living.
As soon as a shipwreck is made known in the great Desert of Africa, their douar, or village of tents, becomes a mart, to which Arabs from all parts of the interior resort for trade, and it even not Infrequently happens that when the news of such a catastrophe reaches the southern provinces of Barbary the native traders of Santa Cruz, Mogadore, and their districts, make long journeys for the same purpose; and frequently bring back valuable articles saved from the wreck, which they purchase from the ignorant natives as things of no value. In this manner superfine cloths are sometimes bought at half a dollar the cubit measure. Occasionally bank-notes are also disposed of for a mere trifle, the purchasers only knowing their value. Watches, trinkets, wearing apparel, silks, &c., are gladly disposed of for dates, horses, camels, their favourite blue linens, or any of the few articles which are felt by these poor people to be immediately serviceable in their wretched way of living. They are, however, more tenacious of the firearms, cutlasses, pikes, cordage, bits of old iron, spikenails, and copper, upon which they set great value, and therefore, seldom part with them.
This is the common mode of transacting the trade of a wreck. However, it not unfrequently happens that when the crew and cargo fall into the possession of any tribe of insignificant note, the latter are invaded by one of their more powerful neighbours, who either strip them by force of all their collected plunder, or compel them through fear to barter it at rates far beneath it's estimated value. In either case, whether obtained by purchase or by force, the Arabs load their camels with the spoils, and return to their homes in the desert, driving the unfortunate Christians before them. The latter, according to the interest of their new masters, are sold again, or bartered to others-often to Arabs of a different tribe; and are thus conveyed in venous directions across the Desert, suffering every degree of hardship and severity which the cruelty, caprice, or selfinterest of their purchasers may dictate.
In the latter end of the year 1748, Mr. Winslow, an eminent merchant of Boston, in New England, fitted out a vessel, the Howlet, for a trading voyage to the Gulf of Mexico on board of which a negro, belonging to his brother, General Winslow, went as cook. No account being received of the vessel for several years, it was naturally concluded that she must have