CHAPTER XII
THE “RALEIGH” WRECKED
On the 14th of April 1857 we were sailing along close-hauled on a lovely day. A nice, gentle breeze was blowing; land and islands were all round us; and we had got within thirty miles of our destination, Hong-Kong, when suddenly, at one o’clock, while the ship’s company were at dinner, the good ship struck a rock. Her bow lifted right up; but not for a moment did it deaden her way. She heaved, and passed on. In an instant all hands rushed on deck, and the consternation was simply appalling. We all felt that a dire calamity had come over us. At that moment I was looking over the hammock-netting on the weather bow, having just previously reported a rock awash two miles to leeward, which I had been warned to report if I could discover it. The sudden impact with this unknown rock which we had struck was so severe that I was nearly jerked off my seat. I knew that our bow had come into serious collision somewhere under water. We were going about seven knots.
The first order given was to sound the well. In a very few minutes the carpenter came on deck, and reported a considerable amount of water rising in the well. Rigging the pumps was the matter of a few moments: I never saw men turn to their work in grander fashion. Off came their frocks; they stripped to flannels, and hove round with a will. We had two large chain pumps, besides smaller ones that cast out tons of water every minute; and buckets were used to bail water from below; but, alas, to not much purpose. The water steadily gained on us.
As it turned out afterwards, the rock proved to be only 9 feet under water. It was shaped like a sugar loaf, and the top was so small that a boat’s anchor could not lie on it. For about an hour we were doing fairly well with the pumping, and there was every hope that if the wind lasted we should reach Hong-Kong.
Every sort of sail was improvised for the occasion—even to setting the sails of the boats hanging at the davits. At the end of an hour, owing to the superhuman efforts of the men pumping, one of the chain pumps broke down. This caused a gloom. After a bit, we tried to put a sail over the leak; but this failed, and no time could be spared troubling over it. Officers were cheering the men, who were singing; and it seemed to give them encouragement and assist them in their work. The ship now began to sink by the bows; the ports were all barred in; and every gun that could be so placed was run to the after part of the ship. Shot, shell, and every movable weight were brought aft, to counteract the weight of water in the bows.
On we sailed, hoping against hope; but to no purpose. Her bows began visibly to droop, and, matters having assumed a serious aspect, the Commodore attempted to get her to take the ground on the first small island that lay in our path. Minute guns were now fired, and the ensign at the peak was reversed, in the hope that some sail might possibly come to our assistance. A few old trading junks were about; but they took no notice. We passed an easy stone’s throw off the point of one small island, hoping she would take the ground; but nine and ten fathoms of water was called in the chains close to the shore, and on we went.
It was a very exciting moment as we gradually neared this small island, wondering what would happen. It was lucky that we did not ground. I do not know how it was, but I personally had a presentiment that we should not have to forsake the ship and take to our boats before something turned up. And my idea proved right. Soon after our passing this island the breeze freshened very considerably, which enabled our ship to be steered for the gradual shelving mud shoals off Macao, some miles distant.
I reported to the Commodore that, in the distance and hull down, I could see three French men-of-war at anchor, with a Rear-Admiral’s flag flying. This was great news. He instantly gave the order to salute the French flag, though we kept on firing minute guns of distress all the while. It was a fine idea: it is astonishing how subordinates gain confidence when complete reliance can be placed on their chief in moments of dilemma: it always encourages the feeling of dogged determination not to give in.
The water had now reached the level of the main-deck bow ports, and was coming in where there was the slightest leakage; and the hour was about 3.30 P.M.
I fancy it must have been a profound relief to the Commodore to find the breeze holding out, and that, bar accidents, in a short half hour we should be encroaching on the mud banks.
So it came about. The mud was so soft, and the banks were so shelving, that, at the speed we were going, it took some little time for the good ship gradually to lose all way, and eventually stop with studding-sails set low and aloft.
All sail was furled; boats were hoisted out; and we prepared to land on a small island about a mile and a half distant. A boat was sent ashore, and discovered a good sandy beach under the high land beyond.
Of course, it was a great relief to feel ourselves safe. There were the boats to fall back on as a last resource; but I doubt if we could have saved all hands without making temporary rafts, and then, of course, provisions and water had to be considered.
Within a short space of time a French paddle sloop came as near us as she could; and, after communicating, our first Lieutenant was sent away in her to Hong-Kong, to take despatches to the Senior Admiral and Commander-in-Chief, Sir Michael Seymour, and report the sad disaster.
There was a question of landing all hands at once; but as long as we did not sink in the mud and the sea remained smooth, there was no immediate cause for anxiety. We sent sails ashore, improvised tents, and landed provisions and a guard of marines.
Pirates infested the neighbourhood. Every trading-junk was more or less a pirate if he got the chance. All that evening there was little to be done beyond collecting our goods and chattels and placing them for safety in the main deck. The after part of the lower deck was still dry up to eight or nine o’clock; so that the officers were enabled to get to their cabins to remove their clothes.
Later she settled still deeper in the mud; and before we had lain down to catch some sleep on the main deck the water was all over the lower deck, and up to the beams farther forward.
At 5 A.M. the ship appeared to have suddenly settled down very considerably. We were called up to man the boats, and to land in case of further accident. It was still dark, and this business was somewhat difficult. The Frenchmen sent boats soon after daylight, and helped us all that day to get stores and provisions ashore; but it was well past midday before I got anything to eat, as we had not expected to have to forsake the ship so suddenly.
As has been said, the only spot where we could encamp was on this sandy beach. Now, the first night of our landing deluges of rain began. They lasted three or four days, and the hills sent down such volumes of water that we lost a good many of our effects, which became buried in the sand. We had three or four brass howitzers in position in front of the camp, and these had to be dug out of the sand—one had been completely lost to view.
Most of our officers lost all they had saved from the ship, and what was left on board was well under water by this time.
The ship had sunk gradually into the mud, and at high water the upper deck was well covered.
The Commodore would not leave the ship. He was much distressed, and spent most of his days on the bridge under a temporary covering, with a guard of marines as his protection.
He always had the idea that his frigate could be floated; but not so others, who felt sure that the game was up and the vessel doomed to be a wreck.
As soon as lighters and help came from Hong-Kong we set to work to hoist guns out and get every mortal thing out of the ship we could; but mud had settled so much in the ship (owing to the tides) that work was very slow and much against the divers.
More important duties now called us elsewhere. John Chinaman had to be settled with. War had begun, and a strong naval force was to ascend the Canton River. Accordingly, all our officers and men were dispersed into different vessels forming the Squadron then in China.
Keppel was given second in command of the Fleet, and made senior officer up the river. He flew his flag in the Hong-Kong, a river steamer that had been improvised for the war. She was useful, being of fair speed and very light draught. Her armament consisted of a long 32-pounder; and a few brass guns were put into her, besides several rocket tubes, splendid weapons to smash into mandarin junks and bamboo stockades which we should have to deal with up the river.
I have by me a letter written by Henry Keppel to Sir Baldwin Walker, then at the Admiralty. After describing the circumstances that led to the grounding of the Raleigh, he writes:—
I cannot bear the idea of leaving the ship, and will not do so while there is any hope. The Admiral has given us the Alligator to live in, and we are happy and jolly together, and the idea of our being dispersed distresses all hands more than the loss of our beautiful frigate. I should prefer the command of a junk to being sent home.... You will feel, my dear Walker, this sad blow, this finish to my career as a captain. If, however, the ship is not got up—and I will bet my quarterly bill she is (though I have lost my little all)—I may still be of some use. We ought all to be truly thankful.
This shows the distress of mind poor Keppel was in; yet he thought his vessel might still be saved. I believe later that they tried to raise her by lashing junks alongside. That having failed, she was put up for sale; but, as only the value of her copper was offered, this also came to nothing. When I last saw her, some three weeks after the stranding, the sea used to break over the bulwarks in the fore end. The three lower masts were still standing and the pennant still fastened to the main mast; but beyond that she was a complete wreck. I never heard what became of her afterwards.