Chapter VIII: Part 8

'It was some time, through the bitterness of the cold and the bruises we had received, before we were able to walk about. As soon as we had gained sufficient strength, we went down to the beach, where we saw, scattered for about two miles along the beach, the wreck of the Defence, but not a corpse was to be seen. We supposed they had drifted away to the southward and westward, a strong current setting that way. This opinion was in a great measure confirmed by seeing our officers' things sold, and other articles belonging to the ship, six miles to the southward of where we were cast away, when we went to join the few who were saved from the St. George. On the 13th January, our captain was taken up again, and carried to Rinkum Church, and placed in a vault with the honours of war.'

Such was the unhappy fate of the St. George and Defence; only six men from the latter ship being saved, out of a crew of 600. Two days afterwards, when the gale had abated, a Danish boat, with two of the English sailors, went on board the St. George to bring away the corpses of the admiral and others, but they found the decks had been entirely swept away. Nothing could exceed the hospitality and kindness with which the Danes treated the few who were thrown upon their shore. Nor was the Danish government backward in generosity. The dead were buried with military honours, and the survivors were sent to England without exchange. The following letter from Major General Tellequist, given in his own language, sufficiently shows the deep commiseration felt by the Danish government, as well as by himself, for the lamentable catastrophe which befel the St. George and Defence.

'Randus, the 21st of January, 1812.

'Sir,--Though the grievous misfortune which has happened his
great Britannic Majesty's ships of war on the Danish coast perhaps
already may be known to your Excellency; nevertheless, whereas the
opposite case may be possible, I will not omit hereby to make you
acquainted with the sorrowful accident, assuring you that I am
very compassionating.

'The 24th of last month, in the night, the English ships of the
line, St. George and Defence, are splitted upon the western
coast of Jutland, and the violent waves made it impossible to
bring the wretched crews any assistance. From both ships are
saved but thirteen persons, who are cast on shore by the sea
with goods of wreck. Some of them are sick, and at present under
care. A part of the dead bodies are driven to land, and interred
with as much ceremony as the circumstances would admit.

'All possible pains have been taken to find out the bodies of
the officers, in order to show them military honours, by the
obsequies upon the churchyard.

'Two bodies of officers were found, and buried with military
honours. Among these was the body of Captain Atkins, commanding
the Defence, which is deposited in a church till I receive the
further ordaining from my most gracious sovereign.

'I complain much that the body of Admiral Reynolds has not yet
been found, for all the pains which are taken on this purpose.

'Agreeably to the charitable sensibility of the Danish nation,
the inhabitants have been very grieved to see the English
warriors in such a distress without being able to assist them;
and I am very sorry, Sir, that I cannot give your Excellency of
this accident an account less sorrowful.

'With great esteem, I remain, Sir,

'&c. &c, &c.,

'TELLEQUIST.

'To Governor Maurice.'

The body of Rear Admiral Reynolds was found a few days after the date of the above letter, and deposited with military honours near that of Captain Atkins, in Rinkum Church.

The surviving officers and men of the St. George were tried by a court-martial at Sheerness, and were acquitted of all blame with reference to the loss of that vessel.

With respect to the loss of the Defence, the court was of opinion that she was lost by getting on shore on the western coast of Jutland, in company with his Majesty's late ship St. George, in consequence of the noble and heroic determination of the captain to stay to the last by his admiral, at a moment of extreme danger and distress, conduct which, in the opinion of the court, will reflect immortal honour on the memory of Captain Atkins.

Rear Admiral Reynolds was an officer of considerable experience, and had distinguished himself on several occasions previous to his melancholy fate on board the St. George.

In the year 1797, he commanded the Amazon, a 36-gun frigate, and was cruizing the 13th of January off Ushant, in company with the Indefatigable, Captain Sir Edward Pellew, when a large ship was descried, steering under easy sail for France. This was a little after twelve o'clock at noon; chase was immediately given, and at four in the afternoon, the stranger was discovered to be a French two-decker, the Droits de l'Homme, of 74 guns.

She had on board, exclusive of her crew of 700 men, about 1050 troops, which, with 50 English prisoners, made 1800 souls.

At a little past five o'clock, the Indefatigable closed with the enemy and began the action; this had lasted about an hour, when the Indefatigable unavoidably shot ahead, on which the Amazon took her place and nobly continued the battle. The Indefatigable, having in the meantime repaired her rigging, again joined in the attack, the British ships placing themselves one on each quarter of their opponent. A continued fire was kept up for upwards of five hours, when they found it absolutely necessary to sheer off, in order to secure their masts. During the action the sea is described as having run so high, that the men on the main decks of the frigates were up to their middles in water. As soon as the masts were secured, the attack was again resumed, and notwithstanding the crews of both ships were almost exhausted with their exertions, it was prolonged for five hours more, when, late in the night, the fire ceased on both sides. The Amazon had now nearly three feet of water in the hold, and was in other respects most severely damaged. The enemy had suffered still more; her foremast was shot away, and the main and mizen-masts left tottering, the decks being strewed with the dead and dying.

At about four o'clock in the morning, an officer on board the Indefatigable reported breakers ahead, and the loss of all three vessels appeared almost inevitable.

The Indefatigable was then close under the starboard quarter of the Droits de l'Homme, and the Amazon as near to her on the larboard bow. The Indefatigable was fortunate enough to avoid the danger by being able to make sail to the southward, and she escaped.

When daylight broke, a terrible spectacle was presented. The Droits de l'Homme had drifted towards the land--broadside on--a tremendous surf beating over her. The position of the Amazon was as precarious, notwithstanding every effort was made by her officers and crew to work her off shore, all proved unavailing, and she struck the ground. The ship's company, with the exception of six men, gained the shore, which proved to be Audienre Bay, where they were all made prisoners.

The melancholy fate of the Droits de l'Homme is described in James's _Naval History_. Already 900 souls had perished, when the fourth night came with renewed horrors,--'weak, distracted, and wanting everything,' says one of the prisoners, a British officer, in his narrative, 'we envied the fate of those whose lifeless corpses no longer needed sustenance. The sense of hunger was already lost, but a parching thirst consumed our vitals.' ... 'Almost lost to a sense of humanity, we no longer looked with pity on those who were the speedy forerunners of our own fate, and a consultation took place, to sacrifice some one to be food to the remainder. The die was going to be cast, when the welcome sight of a man-of-war brig renewed our hopes. A cutter speedily followed, and both anchored at a short distance from the wreck. They then sent their boats to us, and by means of large rafts, about 150, out of nearly 400 who attempted it, were saved by the brig that evening; 380 were left to 'endure another night's misery,--when, dreadful to relate, about one half were found dead next morning!'

HERO.

We have next to relate the still more tragical fate of the Hero, of 74 guns. This vessel was lost on the Northern Haaks, under nearly the same circumstances as the Minotaur in the preceding year, but with more fatal results, as every soul on board perished.

The following particulars are derived from the accounts taken from the evidence of Captain Fanshawe, of the Grasshopper, and from the journals of the day.

The Grasshopper sailed from Wingo Sound on the 18th of December, 1811, in company with the Hero, Egeria, and Prince William, and a convoy of about 120 merchantmen. The weather, at the time they commenced their voyage, was stormy and tempestuous. The Egeria and Prince William parted company on the 20th, and on the 23rd the Grasshopper was left in company with the Hero, and about eighteen merchantmen.

At about half-past eleven o'clock, Captain Newman, of the Hero, made signal to the Grasshopper to come within hail; conceiving that they were on the Silver Pitts, he directed the course to be altered to the south-west, which was accordingly done. They continued their course until ten o'clock at night, when the signal was made to alter it two points to port.

The Grasshopper was at this time going at the rate of nine knots an hour; four of the convoy had been kept in view up to this period, but were soon lost sight of in the heavy squall of snow and sleet. At half-past three o'clock all hands were turned up, when the ship being in broken water, she struck with great violence, and suddenly fell into three fathoms water. The best bower was let go, and she was brought to an anchor. In a few minutes the ship struck again, and continued to do so as long as she remained in that position.

The crew of the Grasshopper had now their attention called to the situation of the Hero. It was first supposed that she was at anchor, although she fired several guns, and burnt blue lights, which in about half-an-hour ceased. At daylight it was discovered that both the ships were inside the Northern Haaks, about five or six miles from the Texel Island. About a mile from the Grasshopper was the Hero--a complete wreck--lying on her starboard broadside. The ship's company were all crowded together upon the poop and forecastle; the sea making clean breaches over her. An attempt was made by the crew of the Grasshopper to reach the Hero, but the surf ran so high that it prevented all communication, and they were under the imperious necessity of seeing their comrades perish, without the slightest possibility of being able to render them assistance.

The Hero had hoisted a flag of truce, and fired a gun: in a short time these signals of distress were answered, by several vessels putting out from the Texel to her relief; but owing to the flood-tide, and the strong gale of wind then blowing, the boats were unable to get nearer than three miles.

Notwithstanding that those on board the Grasshopper were themselves in a most precarious position, from the repeated shocks the ship had sustained by striking against the ground, their attention was completely diverted from themselves, in their anxiety for the fate of the Hero. The waves burst with relentless fury over the doomed vessel, every moment snatching a victim from the now almost deserted decks.

As the night was approaching, and the weather still continued boisterous, Captain Fanshawe, having taken the opinion of the officers, judged that there was no other alternative for saving the lives of his crew than by surrendering to the enemy. At four o'clock the cable was cut, and they made sail for the Helder Point, where they surrendered to the Dutch Vice-Admiral, De Wintner.

The Hero went to pieces during the night: in the morning not a vestige of her was to be seen. Every exertion was made by the Dutch squadron to save the crew, but the weather was so stormy, that all their efforts proved abortive, and thus every soul on board perished.

In the year 1798, Captain Newman distinguished himself by a most gallant action which he fought off the coast of Ireland. He was then in command of the Mermaid, 32-gun frigate, and was cruising in consort with the Revolutionnaire, of 38 guns, Captain Twysden, and the Kangaroo, gun-brig, commanded by Captain Brace. On the 15th October, when near Black Cod Bay, two very large French frigates were seen and pursued, but they were lost sight of during the night. The next morning, however, the Mermaid and Kangaroo made out one of the Frenchmen, and the Kangaroo came up with her the same afternoon, but was speedily disabled by the heavy fire of her opponent, and compelled to drop astern. The Mermaid kept on in chase, and engaged the French vessel, which proved to be the Loire, 46-gun frigate, on the morning of the 17th October. Early in the action the French attempted to board, but were frustrated by the skilful handling of the Mermaid, which enabled her to close within pistol-shot of the Loire, when the latter's foretopmast was soon shot away, and the fire from her great guns nearly silenced, though a continuous storm of musketry was still kept up from her decks. Upon attempting to rake her opponent, the Mermaid's mizenmast unfortunately went by the board, so that she fell off, and the maintop-mast almost instantly followed. By this time the rigging of the English frigate was completely cut to pieces, and her boats destroyed; she was also making a great deal of water, having received several shots between wind and water. In this crippled condition, Captain Newman had no other alternative but to discontinue the action. This was done without any attempt on the part of the Loire to renew the engagement, the French being no doubt only too glad to get rid of her spirited antagonist, though she was only half the size of their own vessel.

On the following day the Loire fell in with the Anson and Kangaroo, and surrendered to the British flag. Subsequently Captain Newman was appointed to the Loire, having the proud satisfaction of commanding the vessel in whose capture he had so gallantly assisted.

In 1808, our officer received the command of the unfortunate Hero, which ship, in 1810, formed part of the squadron under Sir James Saumarez, employed for the protection of commerce in the North Sea. Here he continued in the unpleasant duty of convoying merchant vessels backwards and forwards from Dar's Head, the south entrance of the Great Belt, to Sproe Island. On the 25th of September, Captain Newman, in company with the Mars, 74, arrived off Yarmouth, having in charge between five and six hundred merchantmen, the largest convoy that had ever sailed from the Baltic. He again returned to his former station in March, 1811, where he remained until the latter end of the year, when his ship was selected, with others, to convoy the homeward-bound fleet. On this occasion, he appears to have had sad misgivings as to the prudence of sending ships home at so late a period of the year, through the dangerous navigation of the northern seas. On the day previous to the sailing of the squadron from Wingo Sound, he observed, 'I cannot help thinking that we have been detained too long, and it is well if some of us do not share the fate of the Minotaur.'[14] His words were but too prophetic; and, ere long, he and two thousand of our brave defenders perished on a foreign strand.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] _Naval Chronicle._

THE DAEDALUS.

His Majesty's ship Daedalus, of 38 guns, Captain Murray Maxwell, sailed from Spithead on the 27th of January, 1813, in charge of an East Indian convoy, and made the island of Ceylon, near the Pointe de Galle, on the 1st of July. She passed Dondra Head at sunset, and then steered east by north during the night, in order to pass well outside the Basses. In the morning, the ship's head was pointed to the north, to get near land, a good look-out being kept both from the deck and mast-head for rocks and breakers. The atmosphere was so clear that a ripple might have been seen upon the water for miles around. Nothing appeared to indicate danger; the vessel was supposed to be seven or eight miles off the land, and the master was pointing out to Captain Maxwell her position upon the chart, when they felt her take the ground abaft; but so very easily, that many people on board were not aware that she had touched. Signals were immediately made to warn the convoy of their danger, but before the signals could be answered, the Daedalus swung off into deep water. All sail was set, and strong hopes were entertained that she was not materially injured; but her frame was too slight to sustain any shock whatever without damage, the lower part of the stern-post had given way, occasioning a leak of such magnitude, that although the pumps were instantly manned; and worked with unceasing energy, the water could not be kept under. A signal was made for the convoy to bring to, and to send all their carpenters on board the Daedalus, which was immediately done, but the combined efforts of the whole were unavailing to reduce the leak. The rudder worked so much that it was found necessary to unship it from the broken part of the stern-post, and bring it alongside; and in order to relieve the ship from the pressure aft, the guns and other heavy things were carried forward; this, however, was of so little avail, that the guns and anchors were soon thrown overboard. They then prepared a sail with oakum and tar, and got it over the stern, in order, by passing it under the keel, to stop the leak. For a time this seemed to have the desired effect, and hopes were entertained that they might be able to carry the ship to Trincomalee; but these hopes were of short duration. In spite of the indefatigable exertions of every officer and man on board, the water gained upon them till it rose two feet above the orlop-deck. The men had now been working without intermission for eight hours, and their strength and spirits began to fail, when, notwithstanding all their efforts, they saw the water rising to the level of the lower deck.

Captain Maxwell now knew that there was not a chance of saving his ship, and he felt the painful necessity of leaving her as soon as possible, in order to preserve the lives of his men, whilst there was yet time. He ordered the boys, idlers, and two divisions of seamen and marines to get into the boats which were alongside, while the remaining men were employed at the pumps to keep the ship afloat, The good order and discipline which prevailed during this scene are beyond all praise. 'The men behaved,' to use the words of the captain, 'as if they were moving from one ship to another in any of the king's ports.'

Such conduct is highly creditable, not only to the ship's company, but likewise to the captain and officers, in whom the crew must have reposed most perfect confidence, or such real good order could not have been maintained at such a time.

The ship was settling fast, when the boats returned to carry away the remainder of the officers and men, they left the pumps and embarked in the boats, taking with them the hammocks and clothes belonging to the ship's company. The last man who stood upon the deck of the sinking ship was her captain. When all others had gone, he too with a heavy heart stepped into the boat which bore him from her side; sadly and sorrowfully he fixed his gaze upon the wreck of 'his home on the waters.' In a few minutes the ship gave a lurch, and, falling on her beam ends, remained in that position for the space of a minute, then she righted, showing only her quarter-deck ports above water, and then gently and majestically sunk into the bosom of the deep blue sea.

THE PERSIAN.

The Persian, an 18-gun brig, commanded by Captain Charles Bertram, was lost on the Silver Keys, St. Domingo, in the West Indies, on the 26th of June, 1813. It appears from Captain Bertram's statement, that the Keys were laid down on the chart too far to the southward, or that the ship was carried in that direction by a strong current not mentioned in any of the charts. The Persian struck about five o'clock P.M., by running stem on, upon one of the rocks; she was at the time going at the rate of three or four knots an hour. Everything was done to back her off; the water was started, most of the guns thrown overboard, the boats were got out, and the anchors cut from the bows. These measures for the moment seemed to have the desired effect; but in paying off, she struck on another rock, and from this it was impossible to move her. Again the same means were resorted to; the remainder of the guns, spars, &c, were thrown overboard, but to no purpose. The pumps had been kept in active play from the first moment of alarm, but the water gained on them so fast, there was little hope of the vessel keeping afloat till daylight. The Captain, therefore, resolved to prepare for the worst, and he directed a large raft to be made for the safety of some of the ship's company. About seven o'clock, two hours after she first struck, Captain Bertram perceived that she was gradually sinking; he therefore ordered as many of the ship's company as the boats would hold, to get into the two cutters and the jolly-boat; the cutters were placed under the command of Mr. Norris, the second lieutenant, and Mr. Nicholls, the master; and the jolly-boat under the superintendence of the gunner. These boats were ordered to remain near the ship, in case anything should occur to render it necessary for the people to return on board.

About half-past nine P.M., Lieutenant Price and the rest of the ship's company, excepting two or three who remained on board with the captain, took their places upon the raft, which was veered by a hawser to leeward of the brig, and directed to remain in that position until the morning. At two o'clock in the morning Captain Bertram, convinced that there was no hope of saving his ship, got into his gig with the men who had stayed with him, and he had scarcely left the side of the Persian ere she slipped off the rock, fell over on the larboard side, and sunk into about seven fathoms water, the tops of the masts only being visible above the waves.

At daylight, Captain Bertram, with the other boats, bore up for the raft, which had broken from the hawser during the night and drifted to some distance. They found her and her crew in a very deplorable state,--the lashings had been cut through by the rocks, and many of the timbers were broken, so that they scarcely held together, and the men had had great difficulty in keeping her from being dashed to pieces against the rocks, and in preserving themselves from being carried away by the surf which washed over them continually.

Here was a great difficulty to be overcome; the raft was evidently so insecure that it could not be depended upon for an hour, and the only means of saving the men was by distributing them amongst the boats, which were already so over-crowded, that it would be imminently perilous to add to their freight. However, Captain Bertram did not hesitate to brave the danger, but set the example by first taking four men from the raft into his own gig, and directing the other boats to receive the rest amongst them in their relative proportions. His commands were instantly and cheerfully obeyed, but to carry them into effect the boats' crews were obliged to throw overboard the few articles of clothing they had saved, and the greater part of the provisions, in order to enable the boats to bear the additional weight.

It was now between five and six o'clock in the morning; the wind was blowing fresh from the east; the nearest part of St. Domingo was, as far as they could judge, about twenty-five leagues distant, to reach which they supposed they must go through the Mona passage, the most dangerous in the West Indies.

One of the cutters had forty-five men on board, the other forty-two, the jolly-boat twenty-two, and the gig fourteen; in all, a hundred and twenty-three persons. The wind increased as the day advanced, and became so violent that it seemed almost by a miracle that the boats were enabled to resist the fury of the storm. In the afternoon the danger increased, and the men were obliged to heave overboard the remainder of their bread and water, and never for an instant could they relax in their efforts to keep the boats free from water. God in His mercy preserved those who had shown such trust in Him; for we can scarcely suppose that such noble acts of humanity, courage, and self-sacrifice as were evinced by these men could arise from other than the highest and holiest principles.

Before the evening closed in, they caught a glimpse of the land, but too distant for them to make out what part of the coast it was. The boats were hove to for the night, and a dreary night it was to these poor men. They were without food, almost without clothing, weak from want of nourishment, and exhausted by fatigue; and in this miserable state they awaited the break of day, the rain falling in torrents, and the sea breaking over the boats.

On the morning of the 28th, they again made sail, and landed the same evening in a small cove of a bay between Vieux Cap Francois and Cap Cabron. Here, to their bitter disappointment, they could get nothing to eat--not even a spring of fresh water could be found,--and all the nourishment they had that night was a few limpets, and the rain water that had remained in the holes of the rocks,--sorry fare for men who had been exposed to the inclemency of the weather for two days and two nights, in open boats, without food.

However, it was a great thing to be on shore; for many of the people had suffered severely from being so closely stowed in the bottom of the boats, and their limbs had been terribly cramped. They now wisely endeavoured to make themselves as comfortable as circumstances allowed, by lighting a fire to keep off the insects, and to dry their clothes, and then they composed themselves to sleep, which they much needed. The next morning, being somewhat refreshed, they started across the bay to a place called Margante, which they reached about eight o'clock. Here they found the people well disposed towards them, and they were able to purchase some beef and plantains, and plenty of good water, of which they all gladly partook. The inhabitants informed them that it was probable they might find a vessel at Port Plata that could take them to St. Thomas's, that being the nearest port where they were likely to fall in with any of His Majesty's ships. On the 30th of June, they departed from Margante, taking with them a pilot, to guide them to Port Plata. In order to ease the boats, Captain Bertram and part of the ship's company walked along the shore. Towards evening, the people had gone upwards of twenty miles, and were so exhausted, they were obliged to put into a small bay called Scott's Bay (B. Ecossaise), where they came on shore and erected a tent, with the sails of the boats and a few logs of mahogany. With the help of some turtle, the whole of the ship's company were supplied with food; and they remained on shore till the next morning, when the boats were again launched, and all the party embarked in them, as there was no way along the beech. They arrived safely at Port Plata at eleven o'clock that night, and were received with great kindness and humanity. Three houses were provided for the men and one for the officers, and everything was done that could alleviate their sufferings. Unfortunately there was no vessel at Port Plata large enough to convey them to St. Thomas's. With some difficulty, a boat was procured, in which Lieutenant Price was despatched to Turk's Island, with a letter to the naval officer there, describing the situation of the crew of the Persian, and requesting that assistance might be afforded to Lieutenant Price to enable him to hire a vessel to take the crew to St. Thomas's.

Lieutenant Price made a successful voyage, and returned to Port Plata on the 10th of July, with the government schooner Swift, and a hired sloop. Three days were spent in fitting out these vessels with the necessary stores, and on the evening of the 13th, the ship's company, to the number of 112, embarked in them, and arrived at St. Thomas's on the 22nd. The crew was by this time in a very sickly state; the crowded state of the ships had engendered a complaint of which the surgeon died an hour after they cast anchor; and there is little doubt that had they been forty-eight hours longer on their passage, many others would have fallen victims to the same disease. At St. Thomas's, the sufferers received the care and attention they required, and were sent home to England.

We cannot conclude this account without quoting the following passage from the narrative of Captain Bertram:--'I most justly attribute the preservation of the ship's company to very great coolness and persevering exertions of both officers and men, in keeping the boats free from the water they shipped, and their great attention in steering before the sea. I am happy to say that every man behaved with a regularity that is seldom found on similar occasions: in fact, when the little clothing the people had saved, and the remaining bread and water, were from necessity ordered to be thrown overboard, there was not a murmur,--they vied with each other who should obey the order first.'

In the year 1808, Captain Bertram, then a lieutenant, was appointed to the Emerald, a 36-gun frigate, commanded by Captain the Honourable Frederick Maitland. On the 13th of March, they were off the harbour of Vivero, when a large French schooner was discovered at anchor, under the protection of the batteries. Captain Maitland determined to attempt to capture or destroy her, and accordingly he stood in for the harbour at about five o'clock in the evening. The first fort, which mounted eight 24-pounders, opened on the ship, as did also another fort about a mile higher up, as soon as the frigate came within range. As it was impossible to place the ship in a position to act upon both batteries, Captain Maitland ordered Lieutenant Bertram, with a party of marines and seamen, to storm the outer fort, whilst he took the ship as near the inner fort as the water would allow. Mr. Bertram succeeded in driving the enemy from the battery, and spiking the guns; he then made the best of his way by the shore to take possession of the schooner, which had been run upon the rocks. He was joined by Mr. Baird, a midshipman, who had been sent with a party for the same purpose. On the road they were met by a part of the schooner's crew, consisting of about sixty men. These were speedily assailed by the two young officers and their men, and put to flight. Lieutenant Bertram then advanced towards the schooner, which proved to be L'Apropos, of twelve 8-pounder carronades, and he persevered for several hours in his attempts to get her afloat, under a galling fire of musketry from the shore. All his efforts, however, were of no avail, as she had gone on shore at high water; it therefore became necessary to set her on fire, which was done; and the lieutenant returned with his party to the Emerald.

In this gallant exploit, nine men belonging to the Emerald were killed, and Lieutenant Bertram and several others wounded.

Captain Bertram, has lately accepted the rank of Retired Rear-Admiral.

THE PENELOPE.

We have now to relate the painful statement of a wreck, which was not only one of the most disastrous, but the most disgraceful in its consequences, of any that we have had to describe.

Unfortunately, the loss of the ship is not the darkest side of the picture; and the insubordination of the crew of the Penelope in the hour of danger was as fatal to themselves as it was rare in its occurrence.

The Penelope, troop-ship, Commander James Galloway, sailed from Spithead for Canada on the 31st of March, 1815, and had a favourable passage to the Banks of Newfoundland. Here she fell in with large masses of ice, fogs, and strong south-east winds, so that the captain considered it unsafe to run in for the land until the weather cleared up. On the 24th of April, they made the Island of Mequilon, and at the same time encountered a very heavy gale from the north-west. On the following day they were surrounded with ice, and were frozen up for nearly twelve hours. When the ice gave way, all sail was set, and the ship entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and for the next few days she continued her course in a north-easterly direction, and passed between the Islands of Brion and Magdalen. The frost during this time was so severe, that the furled sails were frozen into a solid body.

On the 29th, they met with large quantities of field ice, which gave the sea the appearance of one entire sheet of ice, but it was not strong enough to stop the ship's way. In the afternoon of that day, the land about Cape Rozier, on the coast of Lower Canada, was visible.

On the 30th, the weather was more moderate, though cloudy; at noon they steered an eastward course, until the ship broke off about three points, when at sunset they tacked, and stood in for the land, which was set by the first lieutenant and the master, at three or four leagues distance.

At eight o'clock, they sounded in seventy-one fathoms; the vessel broke off to the west by north, and the captain ordered the master to go round the ship, and caution the men forward to keep a good look out,--at the same time desiring him on no account to leave the deck. The captain then sent for the first-lieutenant into his cabin, and was in the act of pointing out to him the supposed situation of the vessel on the chart; the line was at the same moment passing forward for another cast of the lead, when the ship took the ground.

'I cannot describe my feelings,' writes Captain Galloway, 'at that moment; for having, for a long time, been almost deprived of my eyesight by night, and also afflicted with rheumatic pains and other complaints, I was unable to judge correctly of the extent of our danger.' The helm was immediately put down, and the sails thrown aback. One boat was then hoisted out to sound, and found two and a half fathoms forward, and about three and a half fathoms aft, having six fathoms a little on the starboard quarter.

All the boats were immediately lowered, and the stream-anchor and cable, with part of the messenger bent on to it, stowed in the pinnace, which, from the strength of the current, was with great difficulty towed to leeward by the other boats, and dropped into five and a-half fathoms water.

On heaving round, the anchor came home, which it continued to do until more than half of the cable was run in, when it held fast, but without altering the position of the vessel. The captain then gave orders to heave overboard the guns, and cut away the anchors from the bows; but all these attempts to lighten the vessel were of no avail. The wind, which had been moderate when she first struck, had increased to a gale, and the ship beat with such violence upon the rocks, that it appeared impossible that she could hold together many hours.

In this condition they were obliged to remain until daylight, exposed to a cold north-east wind, and a pitiless storm of sleet and snow. The officers did all in their power to sustain the courage of the men, but unfortunately in many instances without success. Already symptoms of insubordination had exhibited themselves, several had skulked below to their hammocks, where they remained in defiance of every command and entreaty of their officers.

The topmasts were got over side to shore the ship up, but the motion was so violent that the lashings gave way. At daylight, as the weather did not moderate, and there was no prospect of saving the ship, orders were given to get up the provisions. This, however, had been delayed until it was too late; the water had risen over the orlop deck, and in a short time gained the lower deck. All that was saved was thirty bags of biscuits, and these so damaged by the salt water, that they were totally unfit for use.

The masts were about this time cut away, in order to ease the ship as much as possible; they fell towards the shore about a cable's length from the beach. The master was sent in the cutter to try to fasten a rope to the shore, but the surf ran so high that the boat was stove, and the crew with difficulty gained the beach.

In this condition, with very little prospect of saving the lives of the crew, the captain, anxious for the preservation of the public dispatches, entrusted them to the purser, who, with Captain Moray (aide-de-camp to Lieut. General Sir George Murray), in charge of the military dispatches, embarked in the life-boat, to which a small line was attached. They had, however, no better success than the other boat, for as soon as they reached the surf, the boat capsized, and the two officers swam to the shore with the dispatches tied round their necks.

Another cutter was then sent off in hopes that she would be more successful, but she filled almost immediately; and the rope which was fastened to her was obliged to be abandoned.

By this time it was impossible to stand upon the deck, the sea made a fair breach over the ship, and the water having rushed into the cabin, the few bags of bread that had been stowed there for protection were destroyed.

The captain being unable from ill health to make any great exertion to save his life, was lowered into the pinnace, into which were already crowded as many men as she could hold, and they took another rope on board, to make a last attempt to form a communication with the shore. The boat had scarcely left the side of the ship before a sea struck and upset her. The captain, supported by two men, made his way through the surf with great difficulty and got on shore, followed by the rest of the boat's crew, who, some by swimming and others by help of oars and spars, saved themselves from destruction. The gig was now the only boat left on board; she was lowered from the stern, and the first and second lieutenants, with eighteen men, jumped into her. They were all fortunate enough to reach the shore, and some of the men gallantly returned to the vessel, and succeeded in landing about twenty others. Again, the gig repaired to the wreck, and took off some more of the crew, but this time she was unfortunately upset in the surf, though no lives were lost.

When the men left on the wreck saw themselves thus deprived of the last chance of escape, they raised the most piteous cries for assistance, although they knew that their comrades had no means of affording it. It has been said that 'man is a bundle of inconsistencies,' and here was a proof of the assertion. These were in all probability the very men who had betaken themselves to their hammocks a short time before, and had refused to assist in providing for their own safety; they had disobeyed orders, and despised discipline, and now we find them imploring others for that deliverance which they had neglected to provide for themselves. Most of them had been drinking the spirits, and were so stupified that they were incapable of taking advantage of the floating spars and planks to which they might have clung, and so gained the land.

By drunkenness the bed of the ocean has been rendered a foul and gloomy charnel house, where the bones of thousands of our fellow-men await the summons of the Archangel's trumpets, when 'the sea shall give up her dead.' The reckless seamen, though unprepared for another world, hurry themselves into the presence of their Judge, to meet the drunkard's doom.

It has been related that upon one occasion, when the shipwreck of a large packet seemed inevitable, the sailors grew tired of working at the pumps, and shouted 'to the spirit-room!' They saw death staring them in the face, and to drown their terror for the moment, they desired to die drunk. A post-captain in the navy, who was on board the packet, knowing what would be the result if they got at the spirits, took his stand at the door of the spirit-room, with a pistol in each hand, and declared in the most solemn manner, that he would shoot the first man who attempted to enter. The men seeing themselves defeated, returned to the pumps, and by the blessing of God, the vessel was brought in safe with all her crew.[15]

Unfortunate as was the situation of the helpless creatures on the wreck of the Penelope, it was only a few degrees more wretched than that of the officers and men on the shore. They had been cast at the base of a steep mountain, bruised and benumbed by the cold; their clothes were actually freezing on their backs, and they were without provisions of any kind. Their first care was to search for wood and kindle fires, which they at last succeeded in doing, and then they dried their clothes--but before they could derive any benefit from the fire, the intensity of cold had caused many of them extreme suffering; they were frost-bitten in the hands and feet, and several lost their toes. Some of the people were employed in constructing a tent with branches of trees and blankets, others were searching for provisions and securing such articles as were washed on shore from the ship. In the evening, they found about sixty pieces of pork,--and with this and some melted snow they satisfied the cravings of hunger and thirst. Later in the evening several casks of wine, which had been stowed in the ward-room, were washed on shore; but this, which might have proved a blessing to all, was seized by a party of the men,--who broke open the casks and drank to such an excess that they fell asleep, and were found almost frozen to death. During the whole of the day the unhappy men upon the wreck had never ceased supplicating their more fortunate comrades to go to their assistance, but this was impossible; no human effort could save them. As night drew on, their cries were redoubled, and were still heard far above the howling and roaring of the tempest, when darkness had hidden the ill-fated vessel from view. About twelve o'clock three fearful crashes were followed by a still more fearful sound--the last agonized shriek of many perishing creatures.

And then all was hushed,
Save the wild and remorseless dash
Of billows. BYRON.

At daylight, the remains of the Penelope were again visible, but in three separate pieces; all that were left on board had perished, save one man, who was washed on shore nearly lifeless.

The sufferings of these poor wretches must have been awful in the extreme, for their agonies of mind appear to have surpassed those of the body, and to have prolonged their lives by preventing them falling into the torpor which precedes death from cold. So severe was the frost, that the wreck had the appearance of huge masses of ice; and on shore nothing but the very large fires that were kept burning could have preserved the existence of the rest of the crew.

Upon the ship breaking up, the spirits floated on shore, when there ensued such a scene of tumult and insubordination as, happily for the honour of the service, seldom occurs in the British navy. The men broke open the casks, and before the officers were aware of it, scarcely a man was to be seen sober. This brought with it its own punishment; many had drank to such a degree that they fell lifeless in the snow. The officers then caused the remainder of the rum to be stove, excepting a certain quantity placed under their own care; but when discipline is once broken, it is not easily restored. The next day, forty-eight men deserted, after plundering several of their shipmates, and breaking open every trunk that was washed up. These paid the penalty of their crimes, for many of them were found dead in the woods by the Canadians.

We cannot do better than take up the account which is thus given by one of the surviving officers:--

'With the remaining part of the crew the boats were hauled up, which we began to repair the best way we could. Sails were made from a lower and topmast studding-sail, which were fortunately washed ashore; a cask of flour was also found, a part of which was made into dough, and preparations were made to proceed to Quebec.

'On the third day, a Canadian boat was passing, when the captain ordered her to be detained to proceed to that port. With the assistance of the cooking utensils found in the Canadian boat, all the pork that could be found was cooked and served out to the different boats, which was a very short allowance for two days.

'On the sixth day of our misery, the weather moderated, the boats were launched, and all hands embarked; sixty-eight persons in all, including two women. The wind was favourable, but light; with rowing and sailing, we got to Great Fox River that night, at which place we were hospitably entertained with potatoes and salt at a Canadian hut. Next morning we sailed for Gasper Bay, and reached Douglas Town in the evening.

'The captain and officers were accommodated at Mr. Johnston's, and the crew lodged at the different huts around the place. After three days' rest, we walked nine miles over the ice to where the transports lay; leaving the sick at Douglas Town. The captain hoisted his pendant on board the Ann, transport, and put a lieutenant in each of the others, and an equal number of men. When the ice broke up, which was seven days after we got on board, we dropped down to Douglas Town, and embarked the sick, one of whom died, and two deserted. The next morning we sailed for Quebec, where we arrived on the 28th, many of us not having a change of clothes of any description.'

In concluding the above narrative of the loss of this vessel, we will quote the language of Captain Galloway, who thus deprecates, in strong terms, the disgraceful conduct of the majority of the crew of the Penelope:--'I feel it my duty,' he says, 'to state to you the infamous conduct of the whole of the crew, with a very few exceptions. From the time that the ship struck, their behaviour was not in the character of British seamen in general; they had neither principle nor humanity; some, in consequence, have suffered severely, and several died from drunkenness.'

Captain Galloway died in 1846.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] _Parliamentary Report_, 255.

THE ALCESTE.

At the close of 1815, the Court of Directors of the East India Company having represented to the British Government the impediments thrown in the way of our trade with China, by the impositions practised by the local authorities at Canton, it was determined to send an embassy to the court of Pekin.

Lord Amherst was selected to undertake the mission, and Mr. Henry Ellis was appointed secretary to the embassy.

The Alceste, a frigate of 46 guns, under the command of Captain, afterwards Sir Murray Maxwell, was fitted up for the reception of the ambassador and his suite.

On the 9th of February, 1816, the expedition sailed from Spithead, and arrived in the China seas about the middle of July following. It is not in our province to give any account of the proceedings of the embassy, which have already been so ably described, and are well known.

His excellency, having accomplished the object of his mission, took his departure from China on the 9th of January, 1817, arrived at Manilla on the 3rd of February, and finally sailed from thence in the Alceste, on the 9th of the same month.

Captain Maxwell directed the ship's course to be steered towards the Straits of Gaspar, in preference to those of Banca, as affording, at that period of the monsoon, the most convenient and speedy egress from the China seas; and though this passage is not so often taken as that of Banca, the Gaspar Straits appeared by the plans and surveys laid down in the Admiralty charts, as well as in those of the East India Company, to be, not only wider, but to have a much greater depth of water, and to offer fewer difficulties to navigation.

Early on the morning of the 18th of February, they made the Island of Gaspar, and in a short time, Pulo Leat, or Middle Island, was descried from the mast-head. The weather was remarkably fine and clear,--a mild breeze blowing from the north-west, and the surface of the water gently agitated by the current, which perpetually sets through the straits, either to the south-east or south-west, according to the monsoon.

The sea, which is usually so clear in these climates, had been greatly discoloured that morning by a quantity of fish spawn, a circumstance of not unfrequent occurrence in those seas; and the navigation being thus rendered more dangerous, unusual precautions were taken for ensuring the safety of the ship. A man was stationed at the foretopmast head, and others at the fore-yardarms. Captain Maxwell, with the master and other officers, was upon deck, 'steering, under all these guarded circumstances,' (writes an eye-witness,) 'the soundings corresponding so exactly with the charts, and following the express line prescribed by all concurring directions, to clear every danger,--and it was the last danger of this sort between us and England,--when the ship, about half-past seven in the morning, struck with a horrid crash on a reef of sunken rocks, and remained immoveable.' 'What my feelings were,' says Captain Maxwell, 'at this momentary transition from a state of perfect security to all the horrors of a shipwreck, I will not venture to depict; but I must acknowledge, it required whatever mental energy I possessed to control them, and to enable me to give with coolness and firmness the necessary orders preparatory to abandoning the ship,--which a very short period of hard working at all the pumps showed the impracticability of saving.'

The carpenter very soon reported the water above the tanks in the main hold, and in a few minutes more, over the orlop deck.

The quarter boats had been instantly lowered to sound, and reported deep water all round the reef, ten fathoms immediately under the stern, and seventeen about a quarter of a cable further off,--so that it was but too evident that the preservation of the crew depended solely upon the vessel's remaining fast where she was.

The first care of Captain Maxwell was for the safety of Lord Amherst and his suite; the boats were quickly hoisted out, and before half-past eight, he had the melancholy satisfaction of seeing the ambassador and all his attendants safely embarked in them.

For the better protection of the embassy, an officer was sent in the barge, with a guard of marines, to conduct them to Pulo Leat, between three and four miles distant, and from which it was hoped that plenty of water and abundance of tropical fruits might be procured.