This horrible expedient saved the fifteen who remained; for when we were found by the Argus brig, we had very little wine left, and it was the sixth day after the cruel sacrifice we have described. The victims, we repeat, had not more than forty-eight hours to live, and by keeping them on the raft, we would have been absolutely destitute of the means of existence two days before we were found. Weak as we were, we considered it as a certain thing, that it would have been impossible for us to have lived only twenty-four hours more without taking some food. After this catastrophe, we threw our arms into the sea; they inspired us with a horror we could not overcome. We only kept one sabre, in case we had to cut some cordage or some piece of wood.
A new event, for everything was an event to wretches to whom the world was reduced to the narrow space of a few toises, and for whom the winds and waves contended in their fury as they floated above the abyss; an event happened which diverted our minds from the horrors of our situation. All on a sudden a white butterfly, of a species common in France, came fluttering above our heads, and settled on our sails. The first thought this little creature suggested was, that it was the harbinger of approaching land, and we clung to the hope with a delirium of joy. It was the ninth day we had been upon the raft; the torments of hunger consumed our entrails; and the soldiers and sailors already devoured with haggard eyes this wretched prey, and seemed ready to dispute about it. Others looking upon it as a messenger from Heaven,declared that they took it under their protection, and would suffer none to do it harm. It is certain we could not be far from land, for the butterflies continued to come on the following days, and flutter about our sail. We had also on the same day another indication not less positive, by a Goeland which flew around our raft. This second visitor left us no doubt that we were fast approaching the African soil, and we persuaded ourselves we would be speedily thrown upon the coast by the force of the currents.
This same day a new care employed us. Seeing we were reduced to so small a number, we collected all the little strength we had left, detached some planks on the front of the raft, and, with some pretty long pieces of wood, raised on the centre a kind of platform, on which we reposed. All the effects we could collect were placed upon it, and rendered to make it less hard; which also prevented the sea from passing with such facility through the spaces between the different planks, but the waves came across, and sometimes covered us completely.
On this new theatre we resolved to meet death in a manner becoming Frenchmen, and with perfect resignation. Our time was almost wholly spent in speaking of our unhappy country. All our wishes, our last prayers, were for the prosperity of France. Thus passed the last days of our abode upon the raft.
Soon after our abandonment, we bore with comparative ease the immersions during the nights, which are very cold in these countries; but latterly, every time the waves washed over us, we felt a most painful sensation, and we uttered plaintive cries. We employed every means to avoid it. Some supported their heads on pieces of wood, and made with what they could find a sort of little parapet to screen them from the force of the waves; others sheltered themselves behind two empty casks. But these means were very insufficient: it was only when the sea was calm that it did not break over us.
An ardent thirst, redoubled in the day by the beams of a burning sun, consumed us. An officer of the army found by chance a small lemon, and it may be easily imagined how valuable such a fruit would be to him. His comrades, in spite of the most urgent entreaties, could not get a bit of it from him. Signs of rage were already manifested, and had he not partly listened to the solicitations of those around him, they would have taken it by force, and he would have perished the victim of his selfishness. We also disputed about thirty cloves of garlic whichwere found in the bottom of a sack. These disputes were for the most part accompanied with violent menaces, and if they had been prolonged, we might perhaps have come to the last extremities. There was found also two small phials, in which was a spirituous liquid for cleaning the teeth. He who possessed them kept them with care, and gave with reluctance one or two drops in the palm of the hand. This liquor which, we think, was a tincture of guiacum, cinnamon, cloves, and other aromatic substances, produced on our tongues an agreeable feeling, and for a short while removed the thirst which destroyed us. Some of us found some small pieces of powder, which made, when put into the mouth, a kind of coolness. One plan generally employed was to put into a hat a quantity of sea-water with which we washed our faces for a while, repeating it at intervals. We also bathed our hair and held our hands in the water. Misfortune made us ingenious, and each thought of a thousand means to alleviate his sufferings. Emaciated by the most cruel privations, the least agreeable feeling was to us a happiness supreme. Thus we sought with avidity a small empty phial which one of us possessed, and in which had once been some essence of roses; and every one as he got hold of it respired with delight the odor it exhaled, which imparted to his senses the most soothing impressions. Many of us kept our ration of wine in a small tin cup, and sucked it out with a quill. This manner of taking it was of great benefit to us, and allayed our thirst much better than if we had gulped it off at once.
Three days passed in inexpressible anguish. So much did we despise life, that many of us feared not to bathe in sight of the sharks which surrounded our raft; others placed themselves naked upon the front of our machine, which was under water. These expedients diminished a little the ardor of their thirst. A species of molusca, known to seamen by the name of gatere, was sometimes driven in great numbers on our raft; and when their long arms rested on our naked bodies, they occasioned us the most cruel sufferings. Will it be believed, that amidst these terrible scenes, struggling with inevitable death, some of us uttered pleasantries which made us yet smile, in spite of the horrors of our situation? One, besides others, said jestingly, ‘If the brig is sent to search for us, pray God it has the eyes of Argus,’ in allusion to the name of the vessel we presumed would be sent to our assistance. This consolatory idea never left us an instant, and we spoke of it frequently.
On the 16th, reckoning we were very near land, eight of the most determined among us resolved to endeavor to gain the coast. A second raft, of smaller dimensions, was formed for transporting them thither: but it was found insufficient, and they at length determined to await death in their present situation. Meanwhile night came on, and its sombre veil revived in our minds the most afflicting thoughts. We were convinced there were not above a dozen or fifteen bottles of wine in our barrel. We began to have an invincible disgust at the flesh which had till then scarcely supported us; and we may say, that the sight of it inspired us with feelings of horror, doubtless produced by the idea of our approaching destruction.
On the morning of the 17th, the sun appeared free from clouds. After having addressed our prayers to the Eternal, we divided among us a part of our wine. Each, with delight, was taking his small portion, when a captain of infantry, casting his eyes on the horizon, perceived a ship, announced it to us by an exclamation of joy. We knew it to be a brig, but it was at a great distance; we could distinguish the masts. The sight of this vessel revived in us emotions difficult to describe. Each believed his deliverance sure, and we gave a thousand thanks to God. Fears, however, mingled with our hopes. We straightened some hoops of casks, to the ends of which we fixed handkerchiefs of different colors. A man, with our united assistance, mounted to the top of the mast, and waved these little flags. For more than half an hour, we were tossed between hope and fear. Some thought the vessel grew larger, and others were convinced its course was from us. These last were the only ones whose eyes were not blinded by hope, for the ship disappeared.
From the delirium of joy, we passed to that of despondency and sorrow. We envied the fate of those whom we had seen perish at our sides; and we said to ourselves, ‘When we shall be in want of everything, and when our strength begins to forsake us, we will wrap ourselves up as well as we can, we will stretch ourselves on this platform, the witness of the most cruel sufferings, and there await death with resignation.’ At length, to calm our despair, we sought for consolation in the arm of sleep. The day before, we had been scorched by the beams of a burning sun: to-day, to avoid the fierceness of his rays, we made a tent with the main-sail of the frigate. As soon as it was finished, we laid ourselves under it; thus all that was passing without was hid from our eyes. Weproposed then to write upon a plank an abridgement of our adventures, and to add our names at the bottom of the recital, and fix it to the upper part of the mast, in the hope it would reach the government and our families.
After having passed two hours, a prey to the most cruel reflections, the master gunner of the frigate, wishing to go to the front of the raft, went out from below the tent. Scarcely had he put out his head, when he turned to us, uttering a piercing cry. Joy was painted upon his face; his hands were stretched towards the sea; he breathed with difficulty. All he was able to say was; ‘Saved! see the brig upon us!’ and in fact it was not more than half a league distant having every sail set, and steering right upon us. We rushed from our tent; even those whom enormous wounds in their inferior extremities had confined for many days, dragged themselves to the back of the raft, to enjoy a sight of the ship which had come to save us from certain death. We embraced one another with a transport which looked much like madness, and tears of joy trickled down our cheeks, withered by the most cruel privations. Each seized handkerchiefs, or some pieces of linen, to make signals to the brig, which was rapidly approaching us. Some fell on their knees, and fervently returned thanks to Providence for this miraculous preservation of their lives. Our joy redoubled when saw we at the top of the fore-mast a large white flag, and we cried, ‘It is then to Frenchmen we will owe our deliverance.’ We instantly recognised the brig to be the Argus; it was then about two gunshots from us. We were terribly impatient to see her reef her sails, which at last she did, and fresh cries of joy arose from our raft. The Argus came and lay-to on our starboard, about half a pistol-shot from us. The crew, ranged upon the deck and on the shrouds, announced to us, by the waving of their hands and hats, the pleasure they felt at coming to the assistance of their unfortunate countrymen. In a short time we were all transported on board the brig, where we found the lieutenant of the frigate, and some others who had been wrecked with us. Compassion was painted on every face, and pity drew tears from every eye which beheld us.
We found some excellent broth on board the brig, which they had prepared, and when they had perceived us they added to it some wine, and thus restored our nearly exhausted strength. They bestowed on us the most generous care and attention; our wounds were dressed, and on the morrow many of our sick began to revive. Some, however, still sufferedmuch, for they were placed between decks, very near the kitchen, which augmented the almost insupportable heat of these latitudes. This want of space arose from the small size of the vessel. The number of the shipwrecked was indeed very considerable. Those who did not belong to the navy were laid upon cables, wrapped in flags, and placed under the fire of the kitchen. Here they had almost perished during the course of the night, fire having broken out between decks about ten in the evening; but timely assistance being rendered, we were saved for the second time. We had scarcely escaped when some of us became again delirious. An officer of infantry wished to throw himself into the sea, to look for his pocket book, and would have done it had he not been prevented. Others were seized in a manner not less frenzied.
The commander and officers of the brig watched over us, and kindly anticipated our wants. They snatched us from death, by saving us from our raft; their unremitting care revived within us the spark of life. The surgeon of the ship, M. Renaud, distinguished himself for his indefatigable zeal. He was obliged to spend the whole of the day in dressing our wounds; and during the two days we were in the brig, he bestowed on us all the aid of his art, with an attention and gentleness which merit our eternal gratitude.
In truth, it was time we should find an end of our sufferings; they had lasted thirteen days, in the most cruel manner. The strongest among us might have lived forty-eight hours or so, longer. M. Correard felt that he must die in the course of the day; he had, however a presentiment we would be saved. He said, that a series of events so unheard of would not be buried in oblivion; that Providence would at least preserve some of us to tell to the world the melancholy story of our misfortunes.
Such is the faithful history of those who were left upon the memorable raft. Of one hundred and fifty, fifteen only were saved. Five of that number never recovered from their fatigue, and died at St. Louis. Those who yet live are covered with scars; and the cruel sufferings to which they have been exposed, have materially shaken their constitutions.
On the 29th of August, 1782, it was found necessary that the Royal George, a line-of-battle ship of 108 guns, which had lately arrived at Spithead from a cruise, should, previously to her going again to sea, undergo the operation which seamen technically call a Parliament heel. In such cases the ship is inclined in a certain degree on one side, while the defects below the water-mark on the other side are examined and repaired. This mode of proceeding is, we believe at the present day, very commonly adopted where the defects to be repaired are not extensive, or where (as was the case with the Royal George) it is desirable to avoid the delay of going into dock. The operation is usually performed in still weather and smooth water, and is attended with so little difficulty and danger, that the officers and crew usually remain on board, and neither the guns nor stores are removed.
The business was commenced on the Royal George early in the morning, a gang of men from the Portsmouth Dock-yard coming on board to assist the ship’s carpenters. It is said that, finding it necessary to strip off more of the sheathing than had been intended, the men in their eagerness to reach the defect in the ship’s bottom, were induced to heel her too much, when a sudden squall of wind threw her wholly on her side; and the gun-ports being open, and the cannon rolling over to the depressed side, the ship was unable to right herself, instantaneously filled with water, and went to the bottom.
The fatal accident happened about ten o’clock in the morning. Admiral Kempenfeldt was writing in his cabin, and the greater part of the people were between decks. The ship, as is usually the case upon coming into port, was crowded with people from the shore, particularly women, of whom it is supposed there were not less than three hundred on board. Amongst the sufferers were many of the wives and children of the petty officers and seamen, who, knowing the ship was shortly to sail on a distant and perilous service, eagerly embraced the opportunity of visiting their husbands and fathers.
The Admiral, with many brave officers and most of those who were between decks, perished; the greater number of the guard, and those who happened to be on the upper deck, were saved by the boats of the fleet. About seventy others were likewise saved. The exact number of persons on board at the time could not be ascertained; but it was calculated that from 800 to 1000 were lost. Captain Waghorn whose gallantry in the North Sea Battle, under Admiral Parker, had procured him the command of this ship, was saved, though he was severely bruised and battered; but his son, a lieutenant in the Royal George, perished. Such was the force of the whirlpool, occasioned by the sudden plunge of so vast a body in the water, that a victualler which lay alongside the Royal George was swamped; and several small craft, at a considerable distance, were in imminent danger.
Admiral Kempenfeldt, who was nearly 70 years of age, was peculiarly and universally lamented. In point of general science and judgment, he was one of the first naval officers of his time; and, particularly in the art of manœuvring a fleet, he was considered by the commanders of that day as unrivalled. His excellent qualities, as a man, are said to have equalled his professional merits.
This melancholy occurrence has been recorded by the poet Cowper, in the following beautiful lines:—
Toll for the brave!The brave, that are no more:All sunk beneath the wave,Fast by their native shore.Eight hundred of the brave,Whose courage well was tried,Had made the vessel heel,And laid her on her side.A land-breeze shook the shrouds,And she was overset;Down went the Royal George,With all her crew complete.Toll for the brave!Brave Kempenfeldt is gone;His last sea-fight is fought;His work of glory done.It was not in the battle;No tempest gave the shock,She sprang no fatal leak;She ran upon no rock.His sword was in its sheath;His fingers held the pen,When Kempenfeldt went down,With twice four hundred men.Weigh the vessel up,Once dreaded by our foes!And mingle with our cupThe tear that England owes.Her timbers yet are sound,And she may float again,Full charg’d with England’s thunderAnd plough the distant main.But Kempenfeldt is gone,His victories are o’er;And he, and his eight hundred,Shall plough the wave no more.
Toll for the brave!The brave, that are no more:All sunk beneath the wave,Fast by their native shore.
Eight hundred of the brave,Whose courage well was tried,Had made the vessel heel,And laid her on her side.
A land-breeze shook the shrouds,And she was overset;Down went the Royal George,With all her crew complete.
Toll for the brave!Brave Kempenfeldt is gone;His last sea-fight is fought;His work of glory done.
It was not in the battle;No tempest gave the shock,She sprang no fatal leak;She ran upon no rock.
His sword was in its sheath;His fingers held the pen,When Kempenfeldt went down,With twice four hundred men.
Weigh the vessel up,Once dreaded by our foes!And mingle with our cupThe tear that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound,And she may float again,Full charg’d with England’s thunderAnd plough the distant main.
But Kempenfeldt is gone,His victories are o’er;And he, and his eight hundred,Shall plough the wave no more.
The Æneas transport sailed with 347 souls on board, including a party of men belonging to the 100th regiment of foot, as also some officers, together with several women and children. About four in the morning of the 23d of Oct. 1805, the vessel struck violently on a rock, and received such damage that her total wreck soon became evident to all on board. For the first few minutes after this alarming occurrence, thewomen and children clung to their husbands and fathers; but in a short time, a prodigious wave swept not less than 250 of those miserable people into the ocean. The rock whereon the vessel had struck, speedily forced its way through the decks, and then it appears, from her parting, thirty-five of the survivors were driven on a small island before eight in the morning, about a quarter of a mile distant, but when she had entirely gone to pieces.
The narrative of these events was collected from one of the survivors, a soldier of the 100th regiment, who could give no correct account of how he and the others got ashore, but he supposed they were floated in by part of the wreck. He remembered to have observed one of the boys endeavoring to save Major Bertram, whose arm was broken by some timber, and he was on the point of sinking; he held him up as long as his strength permitted; but to save his own life, was forced to let go his hold, and the Major perished.
The thirty-five men who gained the shore, consisted of part of the regiment, two of whom were officers, Lieutenant Dawson and Ensign Faulkner, and seven sailors. Immediately on landing, the wind unfortunately changed, so that not an article of any kind was saved from the wreck. Mr. Faulkner was aware of the real situation they had reached, judging the main-land, which they saw about a mile distant, to be Newfoundland, and that they were about 300 miles distant from the town of St. John’s.
After passing one night on the little island, they constructed a raft, by means of which, thirty of them arrived on the main-land. Previous to this, however, four survivors of the shipwreck had died, among whom was the poor fellow who had endeavored to save Major Bertram. Another, who had both his legs broken, was missing, as he had crawled away from his comrades, that he might die in quiet. But eight days afterwards, he was found alive, though in a shocking state, as his feet were frozen off. Yet he survived all this, and reached Quebec at a future period. Most of the party set out, leaving three behind them, who were unable to walk from bruises, and directed their course towards the rising sun, but when the first day had elapsed, Lieutenant Dawson became incapable of keeping up with the remainder; and two soldiers staid to attend him. These three toiled onwards without any food, except the berries which they found; and Lieutenant Dawson was then unable to stand, unless supported.—On reaching the banks of a river, one of the soldiers attemptedto carry him across on his back; but having waded up to the neck, he was obliged to return, and lay him down on the bank. There Mr. Dawson entreated his faithful attendants to make the best of their way, and leave him to his fate; and at the same time, affectionately squeezing their hands, he entreated them to inform his father of his melancholy end.—Here the soldier, who was one of them, and who related these affecting incidents, burst into a flood of tears before he could proceed. “We staid with him,” said he, “until we did not know whether he was alive or dead.”
The two survivors continued wandering in a weak and feeble state for twelve days longer, making twenty-six in all from the period of their shipwreck, and subsisting on what they could find on a barren and inhospitable land. But after the first four or five days, they suffered no hunger, for, as they themselves said, their misfortunes were so great as to banish its influence, and to deprive them of the sense of feeling.—The snow besides was so deep during the last two days, as to prevent them from getting the berries as usual.
At last they were found by a man belonging to a hunting party, who, little suspecting to see human beings in that desolate region, took them at a distance for deer, and had concealed himself behind a fallen tree, with his gun pointed towards one of them, when his dog, leaping towards them, began to bark, and shewed his error. When they related their shipwreck, and the sufferings they had endured, tears stole down the cheeks of the huntsman, and, taking the moccasins from his feet, gave them to the poor miserable creatures. He invited them to his hunting cabin, saying it was only a mile off, though the real distance was at least twelve miles; but, by degrees he enticed them to proceed, and at length they gained it. On approaching the hut, four or five men came out with long bloody knives in their hands, when the narrator, turning to his comrade, exclaimed, “After all we have escaped, are we brought here to be butchered and ate up?”—But they soon discovered their mistake, for the men had been cutting up some deer, the fruit of their chase; and the appearance of the unfortunate soldiers quickly exciting sentiments of pity in their breast, they produced a bottle of rum, wherewith they were refreshed.
Every possible comfort was ministered by the hunters to the unfortunate wanderers, and, from the accounts and description given to them, they set out in quest of the others. They luckily succeeded in finding the man who remained the firstday on the island, and also the other two who were unable to leave the shore.
The two men who had accompanied Lieutenant Dawson, appeared to have made but little progress during twenty-six days of travelling, for they were discovered in a place not very remote from whence they set out. Thus, involved among the woods, they must have returned over the same ground that they had passed.
Those who the huntsman first met endeavored to make them understand where they might find the remains of Lieutenant Dawson, and Ensign Faulkner and his party, but they could speak too vaguely of where they had themselves been, to give any pointed directions on the subject. But two of the latter were found by a man on another hunting excursion, about 90 miles distant, apparently lifeless; though on being carried to an adjacent settlement they recovered. Of the whole 35 who survived the wreck of the transport, accounts could be heard only of these five.
Ensign Faulkner was a strong, active, enterprising man, and fully capable of adopting whatever means could be devised for preservation. Both he and Lieutenant Dawson, who was scarce more than 17 years of age, were of the greatest promise. While the transport lay about three miles from Portsmouth, they are said to have swam to the ship, when the former climbed up her side, but the latter was nearly exhausted.
A brig from Port, which touched at Newfoundland, carried five of the survivors from thence to Quebec; and when they arrived there in the barrack square, a most affecting scene ensued. Men and women eagerly flocked around them, with anxious inquiries for some friend or brother who was on board the ill-fated vessel. But all they could answer was, “If you do not see him here, be assured he has perished; for, of 347 souls, we five Irish lads and two sailors are all that remain alive.” The tears and exclamations following these words can scarce be described.
Fair ship, I saw thee bounding o’er the deep,Thy white wings glancing in the morning rayAnd many a sparkling eye in vain did weepFor the bold hearts that steer’d thee on thy way:Long days of grief have lingered into years:Return! return! and charm away their tears.I listen’d till the music and the songDied on the waters as she swept along;I watch’d her stately beauty, till it grewA fading shadow on the distant blue;Less, and still less—the waters are alone!Queen of the ocean! whither art thou gone?The wintry storm hath sighed itself to sleep,Yet still thou lingerest on the faithless deep;Have calmer seas, and skies of deeper blue,Charm’d thee to bid thine island home adieu!Long has yon dark-eye’d maiden wept in vain:Return! return! and bid her smile again.Long may’st thou weep, but never shalt thou seeThy fair-hair’d mariner return to thee,Clasp thy young beauty in a long embrace,And read his pardon in thy happy face;Thy gentle prayers, fair mourner, could not save!Thy sailor sleeps within the stormy wave.
Fair ship, I saw thee bounding o’er the deep,Thy white wings glancing in the morning rayAnd many a sparkling eye in vain did weepFor the bold hearts that steer’d thee on thy way:Long days of grief have lingered into years:Return! return! and charm away their tears.
I listen’d till the music and the songDied on the waters as she swept along;I watch’d her stately beauty, till it grewA fading shadow on the distant blue;Less, and still less—the waters are alone!Queen of the ocean! whither art thou gone?
The wintry storm hath sighed itself to sleep,Yet still thou lingerest on the faithless deep;Have calmer seas, and skies of deeper blue,Charm’d thee to bid thine island home adieu!Long has yon dark-eye’d maiden wept in vain:Return! return! and bid her smile again.
Long may’st thou weep, but never shalt thou seeThy fair-hair’d mariner return to thee,Clasp thy young beauty in a long embrace,And read his pardon in thy happy face;Thy gentle prayers, fair mourner, could not save!Thy sailor sleeps within the stormy wave.
WRECK OF THE HALSEWELL, ON THE COAST OF ENGLAND
The catastrophe which is now about to be related made a deep impression on the public mind. The circumstances attending it were too aggravating not to excite the highest degree of commiseration, whether from the flattering prospects held forth in the outset of the voyage, or from a peculiar feeling towards the condition of the sufferers.
The Halsewell East Indiaman, of 758 tons burthen, commanded by Captain Richard Pierce, was taken up by the directors of the East India Company to make her third voyage to Coast and Bay. On the 16th of November 1785, she fell down to Gravesend, where she completed her lading. Ladies and other passengers being taken on board at the Hope, she sailed through the Downs on Sunday the 1st of January 1786; and, when abreast of Dunnose next morning, the weather fell calm.
This was one of the finest ships in the service, and judged to be in the most perfect condition for her voyage. Her commander was of distinguished ability and exemplary character; his officers of approved fidelity and unquestionable knowledge in their profession, and the crew not only as numerous as the East India establishment admits, but the best seamen that could be collected. To these were added a considerable body of soldiers, destined to recruit the forces of the East India Company in Asia.
The passengers were seven ladies, two of whom were daughters to the captain, and other two his relations. Miss Elizabeth Blackburne, daughter of Captain Blackburne; Miss Mary Haggard, sister to an officer on the Madras establishment, and Miss Anne Mansel, a child of European parents residing in Madras, returning from her education in England. There was also Mr. John George Schutz, returning to collect part of his fortune, which he had left behind him in India.
The ladies were equally distinguished by their beauty and accomplishments; the gentlemen of amiable manners, and of a highly respectable character. Mr. Burston, the chief mate,was also related to Captain Pierce’s lady, and the whole formed a happy society united in friendship. Nothing could be more pleasing or encouraging than the outset of the voyage.
On Monday the 2d of January, a breeze from the south sprung up at three in the afternoon, when the ship ran in shore to land the pilot. Very thick weather coming on in the evening, and the wind baffling, she was obliged to anchor, at nine o’clock, in eighteen fathom water. The topsails were furled, but the people could not furl the courses, the snow falling thick and freezing as it fell.
Next morning at four a strong gale came on from east-north-east, and the ship shivering, they were obliged to cut the cables and run out to sea. At noon they spoke with a brig bound to Dublin, and, having put the pilot on board of her, immediately bore down channel. The wind freshening at eight in the evening, and coming round to the southward, such sails were reefed as were judged necessary. It blew a violent gale at ten o’clock from the south, whence they were obliged to carry a press of sail to keep the ship off shore.—In doing this, the hawse-plugs, which according to a late improvement, were put inside, were washed in, and the hawse-bags washed away, in consequence of which the vessel shipped a large quantity of water on the gun-deck.
On sounding the well, and finding the ship had sprung a leak, and now had five feet water in the hold, the people clewed up the main-topsail, hauled up the mainsail, and immediately endeavored to furl both, but could not effect it. On discovering the leak all the pumps were set to work.
At two in the morning of Wednesday the fourth, they tried to wear the ship, but without success, and judging it necessary to cut away the mizen-mast, this was immediately done, when another attempt made to wear her was equally fruitless as the former. The ship had now seven feet water in the hold which was gaining fast on the pumps, therefore, for her preservation it was considered expedient to cut away the mainmast, as she appeared to be in immediate danger of foundering.
In the fall of the mast, Jonathan Moreton, coxswain, and four men, were either drawn along with the wreck, or fell overboard and were drowned. By eight in the morning the wreck was cleared, and the ship got before the wind, in which position she was kept two hours. Meantime the pumps reduced the water in the hold two feet, and the ship’s head was brought to the eastward with the foresail only.
At ten in the morning the wind abated considerably, but the ship labouring extremely, rolled the fore-topmast over on the larboard side, and, in the fall, the wreck went through the foresail, tearing it to pieces. At eleven the wind came to the westward, and the weather clearing up, the Berryhead was distinguishable, bearing north and by east, distant four or five leagues. Another foresail was now immediately bent, a jury-mainmast erected and a top-gallantsail set for a mainsail, under which sail Captain Pierce bore up for Portsmouth, and employed the remainder of the day in getting up a jury-mizen-mast.
At two next morning, the wind came to the southward, blowing fresh, the weather being very thick. Portland was seen at noon, bearing north and by east, distant two or three leagues. At night, it blew a strong gale at south, at which time the Portland lights were then seen, bearing north-west, distant four or five leagues. The ship was then wore, and her head got round to the westward; but finding she lost ground on that tack, the captain wore her again, and kept stretching on to the eastward, in hopes to have weathered Peverel Point, in which case he intended to have anchored in Studland Bay. It cleared at eleven at night, and St. Alban’s Head was seen a mile and a half to the leeward, on which, sail was instantly taken in, and the small bower anchor let go, which brought up the ship at a whole cable. She rode for about an hour, but then drove; the sheet anchor was now let go, and a whole cable wore away, and the ship rode for about two hours longer, when she drove again.
While in this situation, the captain sent for Mr. Henry Meriton, the second mate, and asked his opinion as to the probability of saving the lives of those on board; to which he replied with equal calmness and candor, that he apprehended there was very little hope of it, as the ship was driving fast on shore, and might every moment be expected to strike. The boats were then mentioned, but it was agreed, that although at that time they could be of very little use, yet in case an opportunity of making them serviceable should present itself, it was proposed that the officers should be confidentially requested to reserve the long boat for the ladies and themselves; and this precaution was immediately taken.
About two in the morning of Friday the sixth of January, the ship still driving, and approaching very fast to the shore, the same officer went again into the cuddy, where the captain then was. Another conversation taking place, CaptainPierce expressed extreme anxiety for the preservation of his beloved daughters, and earnestly asked the officer if he could devise any method of saving them. On his answering with great concern, that he feared it would be impossible, but that their only chance would be to wait for morning, the captain lifted up his hands in silent and distressful ejaculation.
At this dreadful moment, the ship struck, with such violence as to dash the heads of those standing in the cuddy against the deck above them, and the shock was accompanied by a shriek of horror that burst at one instant from every quarter of the ship.
Many of the seamen, who had been remarkably inattentive and remiss in their duty during a great part of the storm, now poured upon deck, where no exertions of the officers could keep them, while their assistance might have been useful.—They had actually skulked in their hammocks, leaving the working of the pumps and other necessary labours to the officers of the ship, and the soldiers, who had made uncommon exertions. Roused by a sense of their danger, the same seamen, at this moment, in frantic exclamations, demanded of heaven and their fellow sufferers, that succour which their own efforts timely made might possibly have procured.
The ship continued to beat on the rocks, and soon bilging, fell with her broadside towards the shore. When she struck, a number of men climbed up the ensign-staff, under an apprehension of her immediately going to pieces.
Mr. Meriton, the second mate, at this crisis offered to these unhappy beings the best advice which could be given; he recommended that all should come to the side of the ship lying lowest on the rocks, and singly to take the opportunities which might then offer, of escaping to the shore.
Having thus provided to the utmost of his power, for the safety of the desponding crew, he returned to the round-house, where, by this time, all the passengers, and most of the officers had assembled. The latter were employed in offering consolation to the unfortunate ladies, and with unparalleled magnanimity, suffering their compassion for the fair and amiable companions of their misfortunes, to prevail over the sense of their own danger.
In this charitable work of comfort, Mr. Meriton now joined, by assurances of his opinion, that the ship would hold together till the morning, when all would be safe. Captain Pierce observing one of the young gentlemen loud in his exclamations of terror, and frequently cry that the ship wasparting, cheerfully bid him be quiet, remarking, that though the ship should go to pieces, he would not, but would be safe enough.
It is difficult to convey a correct idea of the scene of this deplorable catastrophe, without describing the place where it happened.
The Halsewell struck on the rocks near Seacombe, on the island of Purbeck, between Peverel Point and St. Alban’s Head, at a part of the shore where the cliff is of vast height, and rises almost perpendicular from its base. But at this particular spot, the foot of the cliff is excavated into a cavern of ten or twelve yards in depth, and of breadth equal to the length of a large ship. The sides of the cavern are so nearly upright as to be of extremely difficult access; and the bottom is strewed with sharp and uneven rocks, which seem, by some convulsion of the earth, to have been detached from its roof.
The ship lay with her broadside opposite to the mouth of this cavern, with her whole length stretched almost from side to side of it. But when she struck, it was too dark for the unfortunate persons on board to discover the real magnitude of their danger, and the extreme horror of such a situation.—Even Mr. Meriton entertained a hope that she might keep together till day-light; and endeavored to cheer his drooping friends, and in particular the unhappy ladies, with this comfortable expectation, as an answer to the captain’s inquiries what he thought of their condition.
In addition to the company already in the round-house, they had admitted three black women and two soldier’s wives, who, with the husband of one of them, had been allowed to come in, though the seamen, who had tumultuously demanded entrance to get the lights, had been opposed and kept out by Mr. Rogers and Mr. Brimer, the third and fifth mates. The numbers there were therefore now increased to near fifty. Capt. Pierce sat on a chair, a cot or some other moveable, with a daughter on each side, whom he alternately pressed to his affectionate breast. The rest of the melancholy assembly were seated on the deck, which was strewed with musical instruments, and the wreck of furniture and other articles.
Here also Mr. Meriton, after having cut several wax candles in pieces and stuck them up in various parts of the round-house, and lighted up all the glass lanthorns he could find, took his seat, intending to wait the approach of dawn; and then assist the partners of his danger to escape. But observing that the poor ladies appeared parched and exhausted,he brought a basket of oranges and prevailed on some of them to refresh themselves by sucking a little of the juice. At this time they were all tolerably composed, except Miss Mansel, who was in hysteric fits, on the floor of the deck of the round-house.
But on Mr. Meriton’s return to the company, he perceived a considerable alteration in the appearance of the ship; the sides were visibly giving way; the deck seemed to be lifting and he discovered other strong indications that she could not hold much longer together. On this account, he attempted to go forward to look out, but immediately saw that the ship had separated in the middle, and that the fore-part having changed its position, lay further towards the sea. In such an emergency, when the next moment might plunge him into eternity, he determined to seize the present opportunity, and follow the example of the crew and the soldiers, who were now quitting the ship in numbers, and making their way to the shore, though quite ignorant of its nature and description.
Among other expedients, the ensign-staff had been unshipped, and attempted to be laid between the ship’s side and some of the rocks, but without success, for it snapped assunder before it reached them. However, by the light of a lanthorn which a seaman handed through a sky-light of the round-house to the deck, Mr. Meriton discovered a spar which appeared to be laid from the ship’s side to the rocks, and on this spar he resolved to attempt his escape.
Accordingly lying down upon it, he thrust himself forward; however, he soon found that it had no communication with the rock; he reached the end of it and then slipped off, receiving a very violent bruise in his fall, and before he could recover his legs, he was washed off by the surge. He now supported himself by swimming, until a returning wave dashed him against the back part of the cavern. Here he laid hold of a small projection in the rock, but was so much benumbed that he was on the point of quitting it, when a seaman, who had already gained a footing, extended his hand, and assisted him until he could secure himself a little on the rock; from which he clambered on a shelf still higher, and out of the reach of the surf.
Mr. Rogers, the third mate, remained with the captain, and the unfortunate ladies and their companions, nearly twenty minutes after Mr. Meriton had quitted the ship. Soon after the latter left the round-house, the captain asked what wasbecome of him, to which Mr. Rogers replied, that he was gone on deck to see what could be done. After this, a heavy sea breaking over the ship, the ladies exclaimed, “O poor Meriton! he is drowned! had he staid with us he would have been safe!” and they all, particularly Miss Mary Pierce, expressed great concern at the apprehension of his loss. On this occasion Mr. Rogers offered to go and call in Mr. Meriton, but it was opposed by the ladies, from an apprehension that he might share the same fate.
The sea was now breaking in at the fore-part of the ship, and reached as far as the mainmast. Captain Pierce gave Mr. Rogers a nod, and they took a lamp and went together into the stern-gallery, where, after viewing the rocks for some time, Captain Pierce asked Mr. Rogers if he thought there was any possibility of saving the girls; to which he replied, he feared there was none; for they could only discover the black face of the perpendicular rock, and not the cavern which afforded shelter to those who escaped. They then returned to the round-house, where Mr. Rogers hung up the lamp, and Captain Pierce sat down between his two daughters, struggling to suppress the parental tears which burst into his eyes.
The sea continuing to break in very fast, Mr. Macmanus, a midshipman, and Mr. Schutz, asked Mr. Rogers what they could do to escape. “Follow me,” he replied, and they all went into the stern gallery, and from thence to the upper-quarter-gallery on the poop. While there, a very heavy sea fell on board and the round-house gave way; Mr. Rogers heard the ladies shriek at intervals, as if the water reached them; the noise of the sea, at other times, drowning their voices.
Mr. Brimer had followed him to the poop, where they remained together about five minutes; when on the breaking of this heavy sea, they jointly seized a hen-coop. The same wave which proved fatal to some of those below, carried him and his companion to the rock, on which they were violently dashed and miserably bruised.
Here on the rock were twenty-seven, but it now being low water, and as they were convinced that on the flowing of the tide all must be washed off, many tried to get to the back or the sides of the cavern, beyond the reach of the returning sea. Scarcely more than six, besides Mr. Rogers and Mr. Brimer, succeeded; of the others, some shared the fate which they had apprehended, and others perished in their efforts toget into the cavern. Mr. Rogers and Mr. Brimer both reached it, however, and scrambled up the rock, on narrow shelves of which they fixed themselves. Mr. Rogers got so near his friend, Mr. Meriton, as to exchange mutual congratulations with him. A warm friendship, indeed, subsisted between these two gentlemen; they had made a long and painful voyage together, in another Indiaman, where they survived an uncommon mortality by which the crew were visited. They returned to England, and an interval of only twenty-five days elapsed, before they again embarked in the Halsewell.
Mr. Rogers on gaining this station, was so nearly exhausted, that had his exertions been protracted only a few minutes longer, he must have sunk under them. He was now prevented from joining Mr. Meriton, by at least twenty men between them, none of whom could move without the imminent peril of his life.
They found that a very considerable number of the crew, seamen, and soldiers, and some petty officers, were in the same situation as themselves, though many who had reached the rocks below, perished in attempting to ascend. They could yet discern some part of the ship, and in their dreary station solaced themselves with the hope of its remaining entire until day-break; for in the midst of their own distress, the sufferings of the females on board affected them with the most poignant anguish; and every sea that broke, inspired them with terror for their safety.
But, alas, their apprehensions were too soon realized!—Within a very few minutes of the time that Mr. Rogers gained the rock, an universal shriek, which long vibrated in their ears, in which the voice of female distress was lamentably distinguished, announced the dreadful catastrophe. In a few moments all was hushed, except the roaring of the winds and the dashing of the waves; the wreck was buried in the deep, and not an atom of it was ever afterwards seen.
The shock which this gave to the trembling wretches in the cavern was awful. Though themselves hardly rescued from the sea, and still surrounded by impending dangers, they wept for the destiny of their unhappy companions. But this was not all. Many who had gained a precarious station, weakened with injuries, benumbed and battered by the tempest, forsook their hold-fasts, and, tumbling on the rocks below, perished beneath the feet of their miserable companions. Their dying groans and exclamations for pity, only tended to awaken more painful apprehensions, and increase the terror of the survivors.
At length after three hours, which appeared so many ages, day broke, but instead of bringing relief to the sufferers, it only served to disclose the horrors of their situation. They now found, that had the country been alarmed by the guns of distress which they had continued to fire for many hours before the ship struck, but which were not heard, owing to the violence of the storm, they could neither be observed by the people from above, nor could any boat live below. They were completely overhung by the cliff, so that no ropes let down could reach them; nor did any part of the wreck remain as a guide to their retreat.
The only prospect of saving themselves, was to creep along the side of the cavern to its outward extremity, and on a ledge scarcely as broad as a man’s hand, to turn the corner, and endeavor to clamber up the precipice, almost perpendicular, and nearly 200 feet high from the bottom.—And in this desperate effort some did succeed, while others, trembling with fear, and exhausted by the preceding conflict, lost their footing and perished in the attempt.
The first who gained the top, were the cook and James Thompson, a quarter-master; the moment they reached it, they hastened to the nearest house and made known the condition of their comrades. This was Eastington, the habitation of Mr. Garland, steward to the proprietors of the Purbeck quarries. He immediately collected the workmen, and procuring ropes with all possible despatch, made the most humane and zealous exertions for the relief of the surviving people.
Mr. Meriton made a similar attempt to that of the two others, and almost reached the edge of the precipice. A soldier who preceded him had his feet on a small projecting rock or stone on which also Meriton had fastened his hands to aid his progress. At this critical moment the quarrymen arrived, and seeing a man so nearly within their reach, they dropped a rope to him, of which he immediately laid hold; and in a vigorous effort to avail himself of this advantage, loosened the stone on which he stood, and which supported Mr. Meriton. It giving way, Mr. Meriton must have been precipitated to the bottom, had not a rope at that instant providentially been lowered to him, which he seized, when absolutely in the act of falling, and was safely drawn to the summit.
But the fate of Mr. Brimer was peculiarly severe. Only nine days before the ship sailed, he had been married to a beautiful young lady, the daughter of Captain Norman of theroyal navy, in which service he was a lieutenant, and now on a visit to an uncle at Madras; after getting ashore with Mr. Rogers and up the side of the cavern, he remained until morning, when he crawled out. A rope being thrown to him, he was either so benumbed with cold as to fasten it insecurely about his body, or from some other cause or agitation, to neglect doing it completely; at the moment when about to be rescued from his perilous stand, he fell and was dashed to pieces in the presence of his companions.
More assistance was obtained as the day advanced; and as the efforts of the survivors permitted, they crawled to the extremities of the cavern and presented themselves to their preservers above, who stood prepared to assist them. The means of doing so, was by two men boldly approaching the very brink of the precipice, a rope being tied round them and fastened to a strong iron bar fixed in the ground; behind them were two more, the like number further back and so on. A strong rope also properly secured, passed round them, by which they might hold, and preserve themselves from falling. They then let down a rope with a noose ready made, below to the cavern, and the wind blowing hard, it was in some instances forced under the projecting rock, sufficiently for the sufferers to reach it, without creeping out. Whoever caught it, put the noose round his body, and was drawn up. The distance from the top of the rock to the cavern, was at least an hundred feet, and the rock projected about eight; ten feet formed a declivity to the edge, and the rest was perpendicular.
Many, however, in attempting to secure themselves, shared the fate of Mr. Brimer, and, unable, from weakness or perturbation, to benefit by the assistance offered from above, they were at last precipitated from the cliff, and were either dashed to pieces on the rocks below, or perished in the waves.—Among those unhappy sufferers was one who being washed off the rock, or falling into the sea, was carried out by the return of the waves beyond the breakers, within which his utmost efforts could never again bring him, but he was always further withdrawn by the sea. He swam remarkably well, and continued to struggle in sight of his companions, until his strength being exhausted, he sunk to rise no more.
It was late in the day before all the survivors gained the land; one indeed a soldier, remained in this precarious station until the morning of Saturday the 7th of January; exposed to the utmost danger and distress. When the officers,seamen and soldiers, were mustered at the house of Mr. Garland, they were found to amount to seventy-four; and these were the only persons saved out of rather more than two hundred and forty that were on board when the ship sailed through the Downs, including the passengers. It was supposed that above fifty of the remainder reached the rocks, but were then washed off or fell from the cliffs; and that fifty, or more, sunk with the captain and the ladies in the round-house, when the after-part went to pieces. An accurate account of the whole numbers in the ship could never be obtained, as the last returns dispatched from her did not arrive.
The whole who reached the summit of the rock survived, excepting two or three who were supposed to have expired while drawing up, and a black who died soon afterwards; though many were severely bruised.
Mr. Meriton and Mr. Rogers having been supplied with the necessary means of making their journey by Mr. Garland, set off for London to carry the tidings of this disaster to the India House, where they arrived at noon, on Sunday the 8th. On the way they acquainted the magistrates of the towns through which they passed, that a number of shipwrecked seamen would soon be on the road to the metropolis. This they did to avert any suspicions of their travelling for some other intent. It is truly deserving of communication, that the master of the Crown-Inn at Blandford, Dorsetshire, not only sent for all the distressed seamen to his house, where he liberally refreshed them, but presented each with half a crown on his departure.
By this unfortunate shipwreck, all the passengers perished. The ladies were peculiarly endowed with beauty and accomplishments. The captain was a man of distinguished worth; humane and generous. (He left, besides those two daughters who suffered along with him, six other children and a widow to deplore his loss.) Most of the officers also perished; one of them, Mr. Thomas Jeane, a midshipman, who was under the immediate care of Captain Pierce, after gaining the rock was swept off by the waves. Swimming well he again reached it; but unable to support the weakness which assailed him, and the beating of the storm, he yielded his hold and perished in the sea.
In the year 1743, a merchant of Mesen, in Russia, fitted out a vessel for the Greenland whale-fishery. She carried fourteen men, and was destined for Spitzbergen. For eight successive days after their sailing the wind was fair, but on the ninth it changed; so that instead of getting to the coast of Spitzbergen, the usual rendezvous of the Dutch ships, they were driven eastward, and after some days elapsed they found themselves near an island, called by the Russians Little Broun. Approaching within three versts, or two English miles of this island, the vessel was suddenly surrounded by ice and the crew were reduced to an extremely dangerous situation.
In this alarming state, a council was held when the mate, Alexis Himkof, informed his comrades that some of the people of Mesen formerly intended wintering on this island, and for that purpose had carried timber hither, fit for building a hut, and actually erected one at some distance from the shore.
The whole crew, therefore, concluded to winter there, if the hut, as they hoped, still existed, because they were exposed to imminent danger by remaining in the ship, and they would infallibly perish if they did so. Four of the crew were on that account, dispatched in search of it, or any other assistance they might meet with.
The names of these four were, Alexis Himkof, Iwan Himkof, Stephen Scharapof and Feoder Weregin. Two miles of ice intervened between them and the shore, which being loose and driven together by the wind, rendered their approach difficult and dangerous. Providing themselves with a musket, a powder-horn containing twelve charges of powder, with as many balls, an axe, a kettle, about twenty pounds of flour, a knife, a tinder-box, some tobacco and each his wooden pipe, they soon arrived on the island.
Their first employment was exploring the country, when they discovered the hut alluded to, about a mile and a half from the shore. It was thirty-six feet long, eighteen broadand eighteen high; and consisted of two chambers. Rejoicing greatly at their success, they passed the night in it; though having been built a considerable time, it had suffered much from the weather.
Next morning the four men hastened to the shore, impatient to communicate their good fortune to their comrades; likewise designing to get such stores, ammunition and necessaries from the vessel, as to enable them to winter on the island. But the reader may conceive their sorrow and astonishment, when on reaching the place where they had landed nothing was to be seen but an open sea, instead of the ice which only the day preceding had covered it. Doubtless a violent storm, which arose during the night, had operated the change. It was not known, however, whether the vessel had been beat to pieces by the ice, or whether she had been carried by the current to the ocean; not an uncommon event in Greenland. Whatever accident befel her, certain it is they saw her no more; whence it is probable that she sunk, and that all on board perished.
This unfortunate occurrence deprived them of the hope of ever being able to quit the island, and full of horror and despair, they returned to the hut. But their first attention was directed to the means of providing subsistence, and repairing their habitation. The twelve charges of powder procured them as many rein-deer, for the island, fortunately for them abounded with these animals.
Though there were many crevices in the building, the wood of the hut was still sound and unimpaired, therefore the deficiency was supplied and done the more easily, because the lower class of Russians are expert carpenters. Here they had plenty of moss to assist them.
The intense cold of the climate prevents the growth of vegetables, and no species of tree or shrub is found on the islands of Spitzbergen. The Russians, however, collected a quantity of wood on the shore, which at first consisted of the wrecks of vessels, and afterwards of whole trees with their roots, the produce of some more hospitable climate, though unknown. Fortunately they found several bits of old iron, some nails, five or six inches long, and an iron hook, on a few wooden boards washed in by the sea. They likewise found the root of a fir tree, bent and nearly fashioned into the shape of a bow.
By the help of a knife, a bow was soon formed but wanting a string and arrows. Unable at present to procure either,they resolved to make two lances to defend themselves against the white bears. The iron hook was therefore fashioned into a hammer, by widening a hole which it happened to have about the middle, with one of the largest nails. A large pebble served for an anvil, and a couple of rein-deer horns served for the tongs.
By means of such tools, two spear heads were made, which were tied fast with thongs to sticks about the thickness of a man’s arm. Thus equipped, the Russians ventured to attack a white bear, and, after a most dangerous encounter, succeeded in killing it. This was a new supply of provisions; they relished the flesh exceedingly, and easily divided the tendons into filaments, which, besides other uses, served for strings to their bow.