THE HINDOSTAN.
In the year 1804, the Government sent out the Hindostan, of 1100 tons, laden with supplies for Lord Nelson, then commander-in-chief of the Mediterranean fleet. This ship was commanded by Captain Le Gros, with 259 persons on board, including passengers, women, and children.
She arrived at Gibraltar in the month of March, and sailed again from thence in company with the Phoebe frigate, to join Lord Nelson off Toulon, but she was separated from her consort during a heavy gale of wind, in the Gulf of Lyons.
On the 2nd of April, at about seven o'clock in the morning, the ship being then thirteen leagues to the south-east of Cape St. Sebastian, a thick smoke was observed to issue from the fore and main hatchways.
Lieutenant Tailour, who was on the quarter-deck, heard the cry of "fire," and saw the people rushing up the hatchway in the midst of volumes of smoke, coming from the orlop deck. He instantly called for the drummer and the mate of the watch, and desired the former to beat to quarters, and the latter to inform Captain Le Gros of what had occurred, whilst he himself would go below, and endeavour to ascertain the cause and the place of the fire.
Lieutenant Tailour then went down into the orlop gratings, and penetrated some distance into each tier; the smoke was very thick in both, particularly forward. He next went to the sail room, where there was no appearance of either fire or smoke. He was then joined by Lieutenant Banks and several other officers, and they proceeded together to the hold. Here the smoke was very dense, and it affected the throat like that from hot tar. The officers were satisfied, upon inquiry, that there had not been either light or tar in the hold. They then tried to re-enter the tiers, but were driven back by the suffocating smoke. The absence of heat, however, convinced them that the fire was not in that part of the ship. A cry was heard that the fire was down forward,—but we will use Lieutenant Tailour's own words to describe the scene. He says,—
'When I reached the fore-ladder, none being able to tell me where the fire was, I went down to examine, when at the orlop, I put my head over the spars which were stowed in the starboard side, then behind the ladder in the larboard side; the smoke came thickest in the starboard side from aft; feeling nothing like fire heat, I attempted to go down to the cockpit, but ere I reached the third or fourth step on the ladder, I felt myself overpowered, and called for help. Several men had passed me upwards on my way down, none I believe were below me. By the time I came up to the orlop ladder, some one came and helped me; when I reached the lower deck, I fell, but not, as many did that day, lifeless.'
When Lieutenant Tailour recovered, he made strict inquiries, whether any fire had been discovered in the cockpit or store-rooms, and being assured that there had not, he ordered the lower deck to be scuttled.
So energetic was this officer, that eight or ten minutes only had elapsed since the first alarm had been given, before the hammocks were all got on deck, and the ports opened, to give light and room below, until the place of fire could be discovered, and better means obtained for drawing water. Mr. Tailour did not recover from the suffocation so fast as he expected, and was obliged to go upon deck for air. There he found Captain Le Gros in consultation with the master, who, being of opinion that the fire was on the larboard side, gave orders to wear the ship, so as to allow the water which had been hove in to flow over her. Mr. Tailour differed from them, and said he was convinced that the fire was on the orlop starboard side. In a few minutes he again went below and assisted in working the engine, and giving directions for scuttling on the larboard side, where the smoke appeared most dense.
The engine, however, proved of little avail, for the smoke increased to such a degree as to prevent the people working on the orlop deck; the hatches were, therefore, laid over, the ports lowered, everything covered up, and all means used to prevent the circulation of air. Having taken these precautions, Lieutenant Tailour reported to Captain Le Gros what had been done, and at the same time advised that the boats should be got out without loss of time. The captain seems to have objected to this, on the plea that if the boats were got out, the people would all crowd into them, and abandon the ship without an effort to save her. To this objection Mr. Tailour replied, that to save human life must be their first consideration, and that every moment's delay was fraught with peril and death. 'If we wait,' said he, 'till the last moment, it may not be possible to save any; we can get the marines under arms.' Captain Le Gros yielded the point; he directed the sergeant of marines to get his men under arms, with orders to load with ball, and to shoot without hesitation the first man who should attempt to go into the boats without permission. All hands were then turned up, and the command given to 'out boats.'
The order was promptly executed, and as soon as the boats were out and secure for towing, the ship's head was pointed to the north-west, with the view of nearing the land, and in hopes that she might fall in with the Juno.
In the meantime, a party was employed in getting the booms overboard for a raft, the fore and main gratings were laid up and covered over, and Lieutenant Banks was sent down to get the powder out of the magazine, and stow it away in the stern gallery. He could only partially accomplish this; for the smoke increased upon them so much that the men were obliged to desist. The powder they had got up was thrown overboard, and water was poured down to drown that which remained; but the task of filling the magazine was hopeless, and therefore abandoned. Many of the men were drawn up apparently lifeless, amongst whom were Lieutenant Banks and the gunner. Lieutenant Tailour then went below to ascertain how matters were going on; he found only the boatswain's mate in the cockpit, who was almost stupified by the smoke. Mr. Tailour assisted him to reach the deck, and then the gallant officer was preparing to return to the magazine, taking a rope with him by way of precaution, when Lieutenant Banks, with noble generosity, darted past him, also with a rope in his hand, and descended on the dangerous service; but in a short time he was drawn up in a state of insensibility. All hope of doing anything with the magazine was then given up; but although the smoke was so powerful below, it had not yet got possession of the after part of the lower deck.
It was therefore proposed, and the proposition was immediately acted on, to cut scuttles through the starboard foremost cabin in the ward-room, and one under it in the gun-room, into the magazine. This was found more practicable than was at first supposed, as the cabins kept out the smoke. When they were cutting these scuttles, the smoke came up in such dense volumes through the after-hatchway, that it was necessary to shut it closely up, and the scuttle in the after-part of the captain's cabin was opened for a passage to the ward-room, and they began to haul up the powder, and heave it overboard out of the gallery windows. The ward-room doors, and every other passage for the smoke were carefully closed, and thus it was kept tolerably well under; yet many of the men employed in the duty were taken up to all appearance dead. Amongst them we again find Lieutenant Banks, and Mr. Pearce, the gunner. We cannot proceed without expressing the admiration we feel for the heroism and self-devotion displayed by officers and men. This is the third time we have seen Lieutenant Banks risk his life in the performance of his duty, and it was not the last of such efforts to save the vessel and the lives of his fellow-sufferers.
For the present, we will again adopt the language of Lieutenant Tailour:—- 'About noon,' said he, 'I went aft upon the poop, where many were collected, but the marines were drawn up on duty upon the poop above. Francis Burke, the purser's steward, was lying dead on one of the arm chests, said to have been suffocated by the smoke below. Soon after this, my attention was drawn forward, where a vast body of smoke issued from the hatchway, gallery doors, funnels, and scuttles, which I soon saw were blown off; I rushed forward and got them secured again, and in coming aft found the hatches had all been blown off; the two foremost main-gratings had gone down the hatchway. The after one I assisted to replace, also the tarpaulin, which was excessively hot, and left the carpenter to get it secured on. I next thought of the magazine, where I dreaded some accident. On my way aft, I met some people again bringing Mr. Banks up in their arms. On reaching the ward-room, I saw through the windows the stern ladders filled with people; I broke a pane of glass, and ordered them on the poop, threatening instant death to any one who dared disobey. On their beginning to move up, I just took time to summons the men from the magazine, and went up to the poop to see every one was once more under the eye of the marines. This done, the smoke having in a great measure subsided, the maintop-sail was filled, and top-gallant sails set.'
About two o'clock in the afternoon, when they had been seven hours contending with the fire and smoke, land was discerned through the haze, on the weather-bow, and it was supposed to be above Cape Creux.
Captain Le Gros, fearing the signals might fall into the enemy's hands, hove them all overboard. The sight of land gave a turn to the men's thoughts, and spurred them on to greater exertion. The fire rapidly increased; but the efforts of the captain and his noble crew increased with the danger.
Again they attempted to clear the magazine; but the smoke again drove the men from below, and rendered them powerless. Their courage was, indeed, kept up by the sight of land, though still five leagues distant; but there was still much to be done—many perils yet surrounded them.—and it was awful to feel that fire and water were contending for the mastery, and that they must be the victims of one of these elements, unless by the mercy of God the progress of the conflagration was stayed, and time allowed them to reach the distant shore. The fire was increasing fearfully; so much so, that Lieutenant Tailour describes the lower deck 'burning like the flame in an oven.' All communication was cut off from the fore-part of the ship. The flames flew up the fore and main hatchways as high as the lower yards, but still the brave crew remained firm to their duty; and by keeping tarpaulins over the hatchways, and pouring down water, they managed for a time to keep the fire from taking serious hold abaft.
But the crisis was fast approaching when human skill and human fortitude could be of no avail. In defiance of all their exertions and precautions, the devouring element pursued its course. Every moment it was gaining aft; and had not officers and men been true to themselves and to each other, they must all have perished. The mizenmast was on fire in the captain's cabin, and the flames were bursting from all the lee-ports. It was now a quarter past five o'clock, and they were entering the Bay of Rosas. Could they venture to hold on their way, and still remain in the ship? A moment's glance around him sufficed for Captain Le Gros to decide the question. The now triumphant element was no longer smouldering and creeping stealthily onwards amidst smoke and darkness, but with a lurid glare, and a sullen roar, the flames rolled on. The word was given to launch the raft; it was obeyed, and in a few minutes more the vessel struck, about a mile from the beach, between the Fort of Ampurius and the Church of St. Pierre. She was now on fire both fore and aft. Self-preservation is the law of nature, it is said; but there is a stronger law governing the actions of the British seaman. Officers and men were of one mind. They all united in putting first the women and children, then the sick and the foreigners, into the launch. The two yawls and the jolly-boat took as many as they could carry from the stern, and put them on board some Spanish boats from La Escada, which had been sent to their assistance, but which neither threats nor entreaties could avail to bring near to the ship.
The remainder of the people were then ordered on to the raft, and by the time it was covered, the flames came aft so thick, that it was necessary to send it off from the stern. All now had left the ill-fated vessel, except the gallant Captain Le Gros, Lieutenant Tailour, and the master. When they saw all the rest clear away, and not till then, did they descend by the stern ladders into one of the yauls and pulled towards the shore, which they had scarcely reached when she blew up.
The value of this ship was estimated at 100,000l., and the loss to Lord Nelson must have been incalculable. Yet it is said that he was much more distressed by the loss of the despatches, which were taken by the enemy, about the same time, in the Swift cutter.
In a letter to Lord St. Vincent, dated the 19th of April, Admiral Nelson says, speaking of Captain Le Gros.—"If his account be correct (he was then upon his trial), he had great merit for the order in which the ship was kept. The fire must have originated from medicine chests breaking, or from wet getting down, which caused the things to heat. The preservation of the crew seems little short of a miracle. I never read such a journal of exertions in my whole life."[6]
The captain, officers, and ship's company were most honourably acquitted by the sentence of court-martial.
Brenton, in his Naval History, remarks, 'In support of the reasonable conjectures of the Admiral (Lord Nelson), as to the origin of the fire, we might adduce many instances of ships in the cotton trade having been on fire in the hold during a great part of their voyage from China, owing to the cargo having been wet when compressed into the ship. Hemp has been known to ignite from the same cause; and the dockyard of Brest was set on fire by this means in 1757. New painted canvas or tarpaulin, laid by before it is completely dry, will take fire; and two Russian frigates were nearly burnt by the accidental combination of a small quantity of soot, of burnt fir wood, hemp, and oil, tied up with some matting,'
Mr. Thomas Banks, acting-lieutenant of the Hindostan, was recommended to Lord Nelson for promotion, by the members of the court-martial, in consequence of his conduct on this occasion; and he was advanced to the rank of lieutenant on the 23rd of June, 1804. This gallant officer died in 1811. Lieutenant George Tailour was appointed to the Tigre in 1808, and was promoted for his gallant conduct in cutting out a convoy of transports which had taken refuge in this same Bay of Rosas, where, five years before, he had equally distinguished himself, under even more trying circumstances.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] Clark and McArthur, vol. ii. p. 361.
THE ROMNEY.
'In the month of November, 1804,' writes Brenton, in his Naval History, 'the severity of blockading the Ports of the Texel was practically experienced in the loss of the Romney, of fifty guns, commanded by Captain the Hon. John Colville.'
The Romney sailed from Yarmouth on the 18th of November, under orders to join Rear-Admiral Russel, off the Texel; but on the 19th she went aground on the south-west part of the sand-bank off the Haaks. Regular soundings had been made during the run from Yarmouth; and a few minutes before the ship struck, the pilots were confident they were on the edge of the Broad Fourteens. They then sounded, and the pilots proposed standing in under double-reefed topsails, and foretopmast stay-sail, with the wind S.S.W., until they should be in ten or eleven fathoms. To this Captain Colville objected, as from the unsettled appearance of the weather, and the thickness of the fog, he deemed it would be imprudent to approach the shore. They were accordingly in the act of wearing, when they perceived, through the fog, a large ship bearing east by north. They stood towards her to make her out more plainly, and in four or five minutes they discovered that she was a large merchant vessel on shore.[7] Upon this, the pilots were anxious to haul off on the larboard tack; but before the ship could be brought to the wind, she struck. The wind was increasing, the fog very great, and a heavy sea rolling in. In spite of every exertion, the water gained upon the vessel so fast, that all hope of saving her was soon at an end; and had she been in deep water, she must have sunk immediately. The pilots supposed that the Romney would be dry at low water, the topmasts were therefore struck, and every preparation made to shore her up.
The captain having done all in his power to save his ship, next turned his attention to the preservation of his officers and men, determined to use every possible means for their safety. Minute guns were fired, in the hope that they might attract the notice of some of our cruisers, and procure assistance.
At this time it blew a gale from the south-west, and the sea ran so high, as to endanger the boats which were lowered in order to lighten the ship.
The two cutters were sent to a galliot and a schuyt, that were in sight near the land, to ask for help, but they failed in obtaining it; and one of them in returning to the Romney was upset in the breakers, and a master's mate with her crew perished. Lieutenant Baker, who commanded the other cutter, finding it impossible to reach the ship again, bore up to the Texel, in hopes of being more successful in obtaining assistance there than he had been with the schuyt.
On board the ship, in the meantime, the minute guns were fired, and officers and men looked anxiously for a responsive signal that would tell them of approaching succour—but they waited in vain; no help was at hand. The people were therefore set to work to make rafts, and three were soon finished. Between two and three o'clock in the afternoon the ship struck again, with such violence, that the rudder broke away, and she seemed likely to go to pieces immediately. The captain seized the first moment of the weather-tide slacking to order the masts to be cut away, which was promptly done, and fortunately without causing any injury in their fall. After this, the ship became more easy, although the sea still made a clean breach over her. Captain Colville saw that the slightest alteration in her position would be attended with imminent danger, and he therefore ordered the bower anchors to be let go—her head then swung to the wind, and this enabled her to settle gradually on the sand, where she lay comparatively easy. Darkness was fast gathering around, and the hearts of the crew were becoming dreary and hopeless.
Nought but the heavy sea and coming night.
When the tide flowed, no part of the ship below the quarter-deck was accessible. To add to the misery of their situation, out of the four bags of bread which had been put for safety into the cabin, one only could be got upon deck, and that one was so soaked in salt water, that the bread could scarcely be eaten. This, with two cheeses, and a few gallons of wine, composed the whole of their stock of provisions, and during the day they had had no leisure to take refreshment of any kind.
Such was the condition of the crew of the Romney, who passed that awful night on the quarter-deck, the starboard side of which was under water at high tide. The wind blew in violent gusts; sleet and rain were falling, and the sea dashed over the vessel every instant. Although the men were shivering with cold and hunger, not a murmur escaped their lips, not a whisper of complaint; but they patiently awaited the break of day. At length the morning dawned, and with it hope dawned upon the hearts of those patient sufferers, for the wind and the waves subsided, the clouds gradually dispersed, and the sun shone forth with glorious and invigorating light and warmth.
All eyes were turned to the offing, but still no assistance appeared. Captain Colville then resolved to hoist the white flag on the stump of the mizen mast, in hopes that it might be seen from the shore, and that he might preserve the lives of his crew by surrendering to the enemy.
This step was necessary, as it was the only means of rescue that remained to them. The barge had been swamped along side, soon after the masts were cut away, and three of the crew had been drowned. The launch, also, which was lying to leeward, had parted from her grapnel, and had been obliged to bear up for the Texel.
At 11 o'clock A.M., Captain Colville asked the carpenter if he thought they could remain another night upon the wreck: the carpenter assured him that he considered it almost impossible to do so, and that the attempt would be attended with the greatest risk to all on board. The ship had already parted amidships, the main beam and several others being broken.
Five rafts had been carefully instructed, each fitted with a mast and sail; and at the earnest entreaty of the crew, Captain Colville, on hearing the carpenter's report, allowed a part of the men to leave the wreck on these rafts.
About noon, as the fifth and last raft was about to leave the ship, seven boats (one bearing a flag of truce) were seen coming towards them from the shore. The captain ordered the people to throw the quarter-deck guns, and all the arms and warlike stores overboard, which they did.
When the boats arrived alongside, an officer hailed the wreck, and said that if Captain Colville was willing to secure the preservation of his officers and crew, by surrendering as prisoners of war, the whole company should be conducted in safety to the Helder. Captain Colville felt himself obliged to submit to the imperious dictates of necessity, and he accordingly accepted the proffered conditions, and surrendered himself to the Dutch, with all the ship's company that remained on the wreck.
Before nightfall they were all landed. Only those who have been placed in similar circumstances can judge of the feelings of men so rescued from the awful contemplation of immediate and certain death. How happy now did they feel in occupying a position, which two days before they would have shrunk from with horror, and have shed their life's blood to avoid. But 'there is no virtue like necessity,'
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
RICHARD II.
And the Romney's company were wise enough to rejoice, under the circumstances of their hard case, in finding themselves safely landed in an enemy's country as prisoners of war.
Nine seamen had been drowned; thirteen others, who had left the wreck upon a raft of timber, were afterwards picked up and taken on board the Eagle; the others who had been saved by the boats and rafts joined Captain Colville at the Helder. The following extracts from Captain Colville's dispatches show the high estimation in which he held the services of his officers and crew:—'That every possible exertion was made to lessen the calamity, after having struck, I trust will appear from the minutes.' ... 'Under the uneasiness of mind which the loss of the ship I had the honour to command, naturally occasioned, I feel some alleviation in reflecting upon the zealous, active, and orderly conduct of my officers and crew in circumstances the most trying, and under which they endured the severest hardships with cheerfulness, and in perfect reliance on Divine Providence, whose interposition in our behalf was strongly evident.'
Nothing could exceed the kindness and consideration shown by the Dutch admiral towards the crew of the Romney. Captain Colville, in a letter addressed to the Secretary of the Admiralty, does ample justice to a generous foe:—
'We have experienced,' he says, 'from the Dutch Admiral Kirkhurt, every attention that our distressed situation made so necessary, and which his disposition seems incapable of withholding, even from an enemy. But the wants of my fellow-sufferers are great, for not an article of clothing or anything else was saved by any one from the general wreck. I hope the Dutch government will be disposed to alleviate, in some degree, their wants,—in clothing, particularly. And I have solicited the assistance of Rear-Admiral Russel in obtaining these necessaries.'.... 'I have reason to believe we shall be sent to Amsterdam, until exchanged.'
Subsequently, the Dutch admiral, with noble generosity, sent Captain Colville, with eight of his officers, to Rear-Admiral Russel. It is always delightful to record such traits of magnanimity and kindness, and we feel that British sailors can well afford to do honour to those virtues in others, for which they have ever been so distinguished themselves.
Admiral Russel handsomely acknowledged his obligation to the Dutch government in the following letter to Admiral Kirkhurt:—
H.B.M. Ship Eagle, Dec. 2, 1804.
'Sir—I have this moment received your flag of truce, conveying to me the Honourable Captain Colville, late of his Majesty's ship, the Romney, (wrecked upon your coast,) with eight of his officers, whom you have first humanely saved from impending destruction, and whom your government, with its ancient magnanimity, has released and restored to their country and their friends, on their parole d'honneur. They are all, Sir, most sensibly affected with heartfelt gratitude to the Batavian government for their emancipation from captivity; to Admiral Kirkhurt for their preservation from the jaws of death, and to all the Dutch officers and inhabitants of the Texel, for their kindness and most humane attention.
'This, Sir, is nobly alleviating the rigours of war, as the Christian heroes of your country and mine were wont to do in these seas, before a considerable portion of European intellect was corrupted by false philosophy. Captain Colville will communicate to the Right Honourable the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, your proposal for an exchange of prisoners. Accept my sincere thanks, and the assurance that I am, &c. &c.
'(Signed) T.M. RUSSEL.'
On the 31st of December, Captain Colville, the officers and ship's company of H.M. (late) ship Romney were tried by a court-martial on board the Africaine at Sheerness, for the loss of their ship off the Tezel on the 19th of November.
It appeared to the court, that the loss of the ship had been occasioned by the thickness of the fog and the ignorance of the pilots; that the utmost exertions had been used by the captain, officers, and crew, to save the vessel after she struck, and to prevent the ship's company becoming prisoners of war. The sentence of the court was to this effect: that the captain, officers and crew were fully acquitted of all blame, but that the pilots should forfeit all their pay, and be rendered henceforth incapable of taking charge of any of his Majesty's ships or vessels of war, and that they should be imprisoned in the Marshalsea—one for the space of twelve, and the other, of six months.
In 1805, Captain Colville was appointed to the Sea Fencibles, at Margate. In 1807, he obtained the command of L'Hercule, a 74-gun ship, on the coast of Portugal, and subsequently commanded the Queen on the North Sea Station.
He succeeded to his title (Lord Colville) on the death of his father in 1811, and was advanced to the rank of rear-admiral in 1819. On the 10th of November, 1821, he hoisted his flag on board the Semiramis, as commander-in-chief on the Irish station. Lord Colville died an Admiral of the White, in 1849.
We are aware that the foregoing narrative may appear deficient in novel and striking incidents, but we have introduced it for the sake of exhibiting some of the best and noblest attributes of the true-hearted sailor—courage, patience, and perfect obedience under the most trying circumstances, and generous kindness towards an unfortunate enemy. It is well to think of these things, and the more we read of the details of naval life—its sufferings, dangers, and trials, the more fully shall we be persuaded that true courage is ever generous and unselfish. In the words of the quaint old song—
'If of courage you'd know, lads, the true from the sham,
Tis a furious lion in battle, so let it,
But, duty appeased, 'tis in mercy a lamb.'
Or lay down my life for each lad in the mess,
Is nothing at all,—'tis the poor wounded stranger,
And the poorer the more I shall succour distress:
In me let the foe feel the paw of the lion,
But, the battle once ended, the heart of a lamb.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] She proved to be an American, and she went to pieces during the night.
VENERABLE.
On Saturday, the 24th of November, 1804, the fleet under the command of Admiral the Hon. W. Cornwallis, lay at anchor in Torbay. As it was late in the year, and the night dark and stormy, orders were given for the fleet to put to sea.
Unfortunately, in fishing the anchor of the Venerable, 74-gun ship, the fish-hook gave way, and a man was precipitated into the sea. The alarm was immediately given, and one of the cutters was ordered to be lowered. Numbers of the crew rushed aft to carry the orders into effect, but in the confusion, one of the falls was suddenly let go, the boat fell by the run, filled, and a midshipman and two of the crew were drowned. In a few minutes another boat was lowered, which fortunately succeeded in picking up the man who first fell overboard.
Owing to this delay, the Venerable fell off considerably towards Brixham, and getting sternway, was unable to weather the Berry Head. Every effort was made to stay her, but the ship refused; and, not having room to wear, she drove on shore, at the north part of the bay, on a spot called Roundem Head, near Paington.
Orders were given to cut away the masts, in the hopes of their falling between the ship and the shore. This was found impracticable, as the ship, from her position on the declivity of the rock on which she struck, heeled to such an extent, as to render the falling of the masts in the desired direction quite impossible.
Her commander, Captain John Hunter, however, with undaunted fortitude, continued to animate the crew with hope, and encouraged them to acts of further perseverance, with the same calmness and self-possession as if he were simply conducting the ordinary duties of his ship. From the moment the ship struck, not the least alteration took place in his looks, words, or manner; and everything that the most able and experienced seaman could suggest was done, but in vain. On signals of distress being made, H.M. cutter Frisk, Lieutenant Nicholson, immediately stood towards her, and hailing to know in what manner she could be useful, was requested to anchor as near as possible to receive the crew, with which her commander immediately complied, assisted by the boats of the Goliath and Impetueux.
All hope of saving the Venerable being now abandoned, the only object that remained was to preserve the lives of the crew, who were told to provide for their own safety on board the boats which had been sent to their assistance, the captain and officers declaring their intention of remaining on board till all the men had quitted the wreck.
At this time the sea ran tremendously high, and the men lowered themselves into the boats from the stern, this being the only accessible part of the ship. Most anxious was the situation of the officers and men who were left, during the absence of the boats. Many gave up all hopes of rescue, for every time the boats approached the ship, the attempt became more and more dangerous. The night still continued dark and foggy, with driving sleet and violent gusts of wind, which seemed to freshen every hour. In this forlorn and dismal state, the officers continued on the outside of the ship (for she was nearly on her beam ends), encouraging the men, and affording every assistance for their escape on board the boats.
The Venerable was now a complete wreck, beating against the rocks, and was expected to go to pieces at every surge; yet all this time was she so near the shore that those on board were able to converse with the people, whom the report of the guns had brought in great numbers to the rocks. With much difficulty, they at last contrived to fling a line on shore, which, being secured there, some of the crew attempted to land themselves by it. The surf, however, broke with such violence between them and the shore, although they were scarcely twenty yards distant, that the poor fellows who made the attempt were either drowned or dashed to pieces.
It was now past five o'clock on Sunday morning, the weather still growing worse. The crew, with the exception of seventeen, had succeeded in quitting the ship, and these nobly declared that they would remain to share the fate of their officers. The situation of the whole was indeed appalling, and sufficient to quail the boldest heart; the sea breaking over them, the fore part of the ship under water, and the rest expected momentarily to go to pieces. Under these circumstances, the officers, feeling that they could be of no further use on board, deemed it their duty to represent to the captain the necessity of endeavouring to save their lives, they having one and all resolved on sharing his fate.
This point being arranged, the hopes of life began to revive; but a further difficulty presented itself, which seemed to render their safety more problematical than ever. This was, who was to lead the way. The pause had well nigh been fatal to them all. At length a junior lieutenant, long known on board, and celebrated for his courage, agreed to lead the way, the rest solemnly promising to follow. One after another they descended from the stern by a single rope, wet, cold, and benumbed; and in this condition they gained the boats, which were in perilous attendance below. About six o'clock they reached the Impetueux, where they were treated with every attention and kindness which their unfortunate position so loudly called for. They quitted the ship in a most critical time, for in a little more than an hour after they had left her, she parted amidships—that part on which they had been standing for the last five or six hours capsized and was buried in the surf. In sixteen hours from the time she first struck, the whole vessel had disappeared, under the action of a raging surf, lashed into fury by the violence of the gale.
The conduct of the people on shore was most inhuman; not the slightest assistance was offered; not a single boat from Brixham or Torquay having put out to their assistance during the whole of this dreadful night. To add to this disgraceful conduct, the cowardly wretches were observed, when daylight broke, plundering everything of value as it floated ashore.
The following is the tribute of praise which Captain Hunter so justly pays to Captain Martin and the officers and crew of the Impetueux:—
"To Captain Martin, of the Impetueux, whose feelings as a man, as well as his zeal as an officer, were on this distressing occasion so conspicuous.—It is the desire of the officers and crew of the Venerable in this place to express the high sense they have of the obligations they are under to his personal exertions, as well as those of the officers and boats' crews whom he employed in this difficult and dangerous service,—for it is to their exertions they owe the life they now enjoy."
Captain Hunter also speaks of the conduct of his own ship's company in the highest terms. Their steadiness throughout was most remarkable, and to this, in a great measure, may be attributed the preservation of their own lives.
One solitary instance of neglect of duty occurred; and when we consider the circumstances in which the men were placed, and the temptations which never fail to present themselves on such occasions, the highest praise is not only due to the crew, but also to the captain and officers, who, by their previous conduct, had gained the respect and confidence of those under them. It is in such moments of severe trial that the character of a ship's company is put to the test; and the good behaviour of the men who remained with their officers proves that, in order to maintain a proper degree of discipline, no undue severity need be practised.
To a comparatively recent period, the captain of a man-of-war had the power of inflicting corporal punishment to an unlimited extent. This practice has of late years much diminished; owing, in a great measure, to the increased good feeling of naval officers, as also to the Admiralty discountenancing such strong measures, unless in most urgent cases. A captain of a man-of-war has, notwithstanding, and very properly so, an almost absolute power, and corporal punishment rests with him alone; but the humane officer, like Captain Hunter, punishes one man to save many others, and shares with the delinquent the pain which, for the sake of example, he is obliged to inflict. The discipline of a ship of course depends almost entirely upon the conduct of the captain; to him the officers look for guidance and example; and whilst they see that the men do their duty properly, they also learn from him to treat them with due consideration, having their happiness and comfort in view. As in the case of the Venerable, when the hour of danger arrives, each cheerfully performs the duties allotted to him, relying with confidence on those who, from their clemency, combined with firmness, they have been accustomed to look up to with respect.
An additional interest belongs to the fate of this vessel, when we bear in mind that her crew, whilst serving under Lord Duncan, in 1797, remained untainted during the celebrated mutiny at the Nore.[8] She also bore a conspicuous part in Lord Duncan's action with the Dutch fleet, in October of the same year, engaging the Vryheid, the flag-ship of the Dutch admiral.
The account of this great battle, however, is too well recorded in the page of history to need repetition. It is sufficient to add, that the Vryheid, after a noble resistance, was ultimately obliged to strike, under the destructive fire of the Venerable, Triumph, Ardent, and Director.
THE SHEERNESS.
In the afternoon of the 7th of January, 1805, His Majesty's ship Sheerness, of 44 guns, was lying at anchor in the Colombo Roads, Ceylon.
It was one of those days of extreme stillness which often precede the frightful hurricanes that sweep the eastern seas. Not a breath of air stirred, not a cloud was to be seen; the ship lay motionless on the calm and glassy water. The ensign drooped in heavy folds from the stern, and many of the crew lay stretched on the decks in listless apathy, little anticipating the terrible convulsion of the elements which was so soon to arouse them in fear. The monotony on board was broken for a moment by the voice of the captain, Lord George Stuart, who ordered his gig to be manned that he might go on shore with his first lieutenant, Mr. Swan, and some other officers, whom he had invited to dine with him under a tent. The bustle of their departure from the ship was soon over, and again all was still. The captain and officers had scarcely landed and seated themselves at table, when a roaring sound was heard, at first distant, but becoming louder and louder every moment, and before they could conjecture the cause, the canvass of the tent was almost torn from its fastenings by the sudden violence of the wind.
Every one thought first of the Sheerness, and rushing from the tent a scene presented itself to their gaze little calculated to diminish their alarm for the ship.
The sea, which a few minutes before had been smooth as a polished mirror, now displayed a picture of terrific grandeur; the waves, crested with foam, rolled and tossed over one another in wild confusion, whilst the roaring of the winds, and the torrents of rain, added to the awful sublimity of the scene. Lord George, though aware of the imminent danger to which he exposed himself, determined at all risks to get on board his ship. Without a moment's delay he collected the crew of the gig, and pushed from the shore towards the vessel—himself steering the boat, whilst Lieutenant Swan pulled the bow oar. The wind had now increased to such a hurricane as is only known in tropical climates, and the waves threatened every instant to engulf the frail bark. As they advanced, the danger became more and more urgent; the sea broke over them continually; nevertheless, they persevered, and strained every nerve to effect their object.
The stunning roar of the hurricane prevented any communication except by signs, and several times the wind caught the oars with such force that the men could scarcely retain their seats. In vain were all their efforts:—
The thunder rolls, the forky lightning flies;
In vain the master issues out commands,
In vain the trembling sailors ply their hands,
The tempest, unforeseen, prevents their care,
And from the first they labour in despair.
Dryden.
The boat filled with water three times, and became so nearly unmanageable, that they saw it would be impossible to gain the ship, and they bore up to the west part of York Island, from whence they waded to the shore, but so exhausted from the fatigue they had undergone, that they could never have reached the land, had they not been assisted by some workmen who were on the spot.
When they arrived, they found Mr. Warner, a midshipman, had just landed from the Sheerness, with a message to the effect that the ship had parted an anchor, but that she was riding in safety with two others. Mr. Warner had been sent in the launch, but in nearing the shore, she had been upset, and two of her crew were drowned; there was little hope, therefore, of any boat weathering the storm in an attempt to reach the ship.
Lord George, however, would not give up the attempt, and he expressed so much anxiety to join his vessel, that it was proposed to go to the weathermost part of the bay. Thither they accordingly struggled on foot, with the utmost difficulty making head against the wind, and suffering acutely from the sand driving into their eyes. In addition to their personal sufferings, the spectacle around was one of such desolation and horror as no man can witness without pain. The shore, as far as the eye could reach, was covered with wrecks, and with the bodies of the dying and the dead, while the roaring of the surf, and the howling of the tempest, mingled with the piercing cries of those on board the stranded vessels, who were yet struggling with their fate, added to the awfulness of the scene.
At half-past six in the evening, exhausted with fatigue and suffering, they arrived at the head of the bay; but here they were again doomed to disappointment, for they found no one to assist them in launching the boat, although the crew of the launch had been directed to join them for that purpose.
The ship was still in sight, but they found it would be impossible to reach her, and they therefore proceeded to the neighbouring town of Ostenberg, where they directed a soldier whom they met, to hasten to his commanding officer, and request that a party of soldiers with torches should be ordered out ready to save the crew of the Sheerness, in case of her driving on shore.
Lord George and his companions then went to the master attendant's house, where they passed the night; but although they were worn out in mind and body, sleep never closed their eyes that night—they passed it in listening to the reports of the signal guns from the Sheerness, and in watching the rockets which from time to time illuminated the darkness, telling of distress and danger which they could not alleviate.
When morning broke, they assembled all the workmen they could muster, and manning a cutter with the crew of the launch, they went off to the Sheerness, which had been driven on shore to the west of York Island.
There a most distressing sight presented itself; two vessels had been driven on shore, one of which was totally lost. The Sheerness had parted her cables during the night, and for a time her situation was exceedingly perilous, it was impossible to stand upon deck till the main and mizen masts had been cut away. The water rose above the orlop deck till it became level with the surface of the sea.
Not a barrack-house or tree escaped the ravages of the storm; many were levelled with the ground, others extensively damaged, and the hospital was completely unroofed, which rendered the situation of the sick most deplorable. One of the patients was killed by the falling beams. Several Europeans fell a sacrifice to the storm, many of them being exposed to the torrents of rain without any place of shelter within reach.
Lord George Stuart, the officers and crew of the Sheerness were acquitted of all blame respecting the loss of that vessel, it being the opinion of the court, that 'Every exertion was made for the preservation of the ship by the captain, officers, and crew upon that trying occasion; and that, owing to the violence of the hurricane, the loss of the ship was inevitable; and every subsequent attempt to get her afloat proved ineffectual, in consequence of the damage she had sustained in grounding when driven on shore, from the impossibility of keeping her free by means of the pumps.'
Lord George Stuart entered the navy in the year 1793 as a midshipman on board the Providence, in which ship he had the misfortune to be wrecked in the year 1797.
He received his post rank in 1804, and was almost constantly employed from that time until 1809, when he assumed the command of a light squadron at the mouth of the Elbe.
Here he performed an important service in taking the town of Gessendorf, situated on the banks of the Weser, and in driving from the fortress a body of French troops who had made frequent predatory and piratical excursions in the neighbourhood of Cuxhaven.
A few days after the defeat of the French, the gallant Duke of Brunswick also arrived on the opposite banks of the Weser, after having almost succeeded in effecting his retreat through the heart of Germany. By the previous dispersion of the enemy and the destruction of the fortress, he succeeded in crossing the river and escaping his pursuers, who would otherwise, in all probability, have captured or destroyed the whole of his detachment.
His Lordship was next appointed to the Horatio, a 38-gun frigate. Whilst cruizing on the morning of the 7th December, 1813, off the Island of Zealand, he received a letter from a gentleman who had been in the British service, requesting his aid to drive the French from Zierick-Zee, the capital of Schowen. He at once complied with this request, and directed a detachment of seamen and marines to storm the batteries as soon as the tide would answer for the boats to leave the ship, which could not be done until nine P.M. In the meantime, a deputation arrived on board from the principal citizens, bearing a flag of truce from the French general, and requesting, that in order to save the effusion of blood, and to prevent the disorders which would in all probability arise, as the city was then in a state of insurrection, terms of capitulation should be granted, by which the French should be allowed to withdraw with their baggage to Bergen-op-Zoom. To this, Lord George Stuart gave a peremptory refusal, and summoned the French to surrender unconditionally. After a short delay, the signal of surrender was made, and thus, by the promptitude and decision displayed by the British officer, the French were compelled to evacuate the Island of Schowen without bloodshed, and the ancient magistrates of Zierick-Zee resumed their former functions.
Lord George Stuart subsequently commanded the Newcastle, and was employed in the last American war. In 1815, he received the Order of the Companion of the Bath, and died as rear-admiral in 1841.