Narratives of Shipwrecks of the Royal Navy; between 1793 and 1849

The year 1807 was most disastrous to the British navy: during that period, we lost no less than twenty-nine ships of war, and, unhappily, the greater part of their crews. Some of these vessels foundered at sea, others were wrecked or accidentally burnt, and it was at the close of this eventful year that a calamity occurred which equalled, if it did not surpass, any previous disaster.

The Anson, of 40 guns, under the command of Captain Charles Lydiard, after completing her stores for a few months' cruise, sailed from Falmouth on the 24th of December, to resume her station off Brest. The wind was adverse, blowing very hard from the W.S.W., until the morning of the 28th, when Captain Lydiard made the Island of Bas, on the French coast. As the gale was increasing rather than subsiding, he determined to return to port, and accordingly shaped his course for the Lizard. At three o'clock P.M. land was discovered, apparently about five miles west of the Lizard, but owing to the thickness of the fog, there was a difference of opinion as to the land that was seen, and therefore the ship was wore to stand out to sea. She had not been long on this tack before land was descried right ahead.

The scene of horror and confusion which ensued on, the Anson striking against the ground, was one which baffles all description. Many of the men were washed away by the tremendous sea which swept over the deck; many others were killed by the falling of the spars, the crashing sound of which, as they fell from aloft, mingled with the shrieks of the women on board, was heard even amidst the roar of the waters and the howling of the winds. The coast was lined with crowds of spectators, who watched with an intense and painful interest the gradual approach of the ill-fated vessel towards the shore, and witnessed the subsequent melancholy catastrophe.

The surf ran so high, it was impossible that any boat could reach the wreck. The life-boat, in 1807, had not been brought to the state of perfection it has attained in our day; and the many inventions which science and art have since introduced for the preservation of life, were for the most part unknown in the times of which we are now writing.

Several men attempted to swim to the ship, but without success; they were all, one after another, cast back exhausted upon the beach, and many of them without sense or motion. At last, when there seemed no hope left of affording aid to the sufferers, Mr. Roberts, of Helstone, seized hold of a rope, and boldly struck out in the direction of the Anson. He was a powerful swimmer, and his courageous efforts were watched from the shore and from the wreck with intense interest, and many a heartfelt prayer was breathed for his safety and success. Tossed on the foaming waters, at one moment lost to sight, and almost suffocated in the spray, and at another rising on the top of a huge wave, he at last reached the ship, and was hailed as a deliverer by those who were still clinging to the spars and rigging. The rope which Mr. Roberts had taken with him was made fast to the wreck, and this formed a communication with the shore, by which many a poor wretch was saved who must otherwise have perished.

Sixty men, amongst whom were Captain Lydiard and his first-lieutenant, perished in the wreck of the Anson. The survivors of the crew were conveyed to Helstone, where they received every attention and kindness which their unfortunate condition required. The body of Captain Lydiard, which was washed on shore, was interred at Falmouth with military honours.

We feel assured that the following particulars of the life of Captain Lydiard will not be unacceptable to the reader.

On the evening of the 9th of June, 1796, the Southampton was stationed with the fleet under Sir John Jervis, off Toulon, when a French cruizer was discovered working up to Hieres Bay. The commander-in-chief called the captain of the Southampton on board the Victory, and pointing out the ship, directed him to make a dash at her through the Grand Pas. Accordingly, the Southampton weighed, and, in order to delude the French into the supposition that the ship was either a neutral or a French frigate, hauled up under easy sail close to the batteries at the north-east of Porquerol. The stratagem succeeded; for before the enemy were aware of the approach of the Southampton, the ship was alongside of the French cruizer. Captain Macnamara cautioned her commander not to make a fruitless resistance; but he replied by snapping his pistol, and pouring in a broadside. In a moment, the English boarded, led on by Lieutenant Lydiard, with an impetuosity that nothing could withstand. After ten minutes' spirited resistance on the part of the French captain and a hundred of his men under arms, the 'Utile' surrendered, but not before the death of her gallant commander, who fell at the beginning of the onset.

Lydiard was instantly promoted, and appointed to the command of the ship he had so gallantly captured. In the year 1801, he was advanced to the rank of post-captain, and though frequently soliciting employment did not succeed in obtaining a command until 1805, when he was appointed to the Anson.

'When the headmost ship got round the point of the harbour's mouth, the wind became so unfavourable that she could not fetch in; but to return was impossible—it was too late. What a trying moment! At that instant, however, there came on a squall, in which the wind shifted two points in their favour, and they proceeded close together.

The same year that opened so brilliantly upon the career of Captain Lydiard, witnessed, at its close, the total destruction of the Anson, and the untimely fate of her brave commander.

In the afternoon of the 21st of November, 1807, the Boreas, of 22 guns, Captain George Scott, proceeded in search of a pilot-boat, which had been blown off the coast of Guernsey in a gale of wind.

This boat was picked up and taken in tow, when about six o'clock P.M. it was discovered that the ship was near the Hannois rocks, about two miles to the south-west of Guernsey. Orders were immediately given by the pilot to put the helm down, but whilst in stays, the ship struck on the larboard bow; and although every exertion was made to get her off, it was found impossible to do so. The point of a rock was reported to be through the well, rendering the pumps useless. The ship then heeled on her larboard broadside, and the captain gave orders to cut away the masts.

The gig, with Lieutenant Bewick, a lieutenant of marines, and six men, was sent to give information, and obtain assistance. The launch, with the gunner, and some others, was ordered to take on board the sick, and land them at Hannois Point, and then to return to the ship; and the cutter, with the boatswain, and a few men, was despatched on the same service. Captain Scott, with noble intrepidity, remained to share the fate of his vessel.

In addition to the boats we have already mentioned as having left the ship, was a small cutter, (containing two midshipmen, of the names of Luttrell and Hemmings, and two men,) which was lowered into the sea by order of the first lieutenant, whose humanity induced him to take this expedient for saving the lives of the two boys. The current was so strong that in a few moments the cutter drifted away from the ship, but the generous feelings of the boys forbade them to desert their comrades in distress, and with great exertion they pulled back to the vessel; they called for a rope, but were ordered to keep off, and again their little boat was carried away by the current. Once more they attempted to get back, but their strength was unequal to the task, and they were carried out into the open sea. Their situation was in many respects little better than that of the friends whom they had left upon the wreck,—the night was pitch dark, the boat had neither mast nor sail, and the sea ran so high that they could do nothing with the oars. Every now and then the flash of a gun, seen across the black distance, told them that the Boreas still held together, and that she was making signals of distress; but no sound reached their ears save the roar of the winds and the waves. Even the booming of the guns was lost in that dismal roar.

In this state they had remained another hour, when a hollow sound was heard below them; still they spoke not a word, for from the captain to the youngest boy, every one knew what that sound foretold, and that the last struggle was at hand,—for many, the last hour of existence. Then a universal tremor was felt through the wreck, and the boldest heart responded to that shudder. The very timbers seemed to dread their impending doom: with a mighty crash they yielded to the force of the waves; for a moment the ship righted, and then sank beneath the foaming waters.

The moment the vessel sunk, many of the men struck out for the plank nearest to them; a few of the strongest and best swimmers gained the raft, but others who were benumbed with cold, or otherwise unable to swim, perished immediately. The quarter-master was one of those who reached the raft, and he found the captain, the doctor, and some others, already upon it. Captain Scott was so much exhausted by the mental and bodily sufferings he had endured, that the doctor and the quarter-master were obliged to support him on the raft. He became gradually weaker, and lingered but a short time ere he expired in their arms; and a few minutes afterwards a huge wave swept over the raft, and bore with it the body of the lamented commander of the Boreas. About eight o'clock in the morning, a number of boats put out from Guernsey to the relief of the survivors, and carried them safely on shore.

We have already mentioned the cowardly and inhuman conduct of the pilots in deserting the Boreas, and it is also a matter of surprise, that although twenty guns were fired as signals, and several rockets and blue lights burned, no help of any kind was sent from the shore till the next morning. One of the witnesses on the court-martial affirmed, that a pilot on shore had heard the guns firing, and had inquired of a soldier on guard whether it was an English or French man-of-war! On the soldier replying that he thought it was an English vessel, the man refused to put to sea, saying, by way of excuse, that 'it blew too hard.'

The following is an extract from the dispatch of Vice-Admiral Sir James Saumarez:—'The greatest praise appears due to Captain Scott and his officers and men, under such perilous circumstances—in a dark and tempestuous night, in the midst of the most dangerous rocks that can be conceived, and I have most sincerely to lament the loss of so many brave officers and men, who have perished on this melancholy occasion.

'Captain Scott has been long upon this station, and has always shown the greatest zeal and attachment to his Majesty's service, and in him particularly his country meets a great loss, being a most valuable and deserving officer.'

This account is necessarily brief: so short a time elapsed between the unexpected striking of the ship and her going to pieces, that there is no incident to relate. The commander and officers of the Hirondelle seem to have done all in their power to extricate her from her unfortunate position; indeed, it would appear that had they attended less anxiously to the preservation of the ship, many lives might have been saved.

His Majesty's ship Banterer, of 22 guns, under the command of Captain Alexander Shephard, was lost on the 29th October, 1808, between Port Neuf and Point Mille Vache, in the River St. Lawrence, whilst in the execution of orders, which Captain Shephard had received from Sir John Borlase Warren, directing him to proceed to Quebec, with all possible despatch, to take a convoy to England.

The following is the account of this disastrous affair, as given by Captain Shephard:—

'About half-past eleven A.M. the stream cable being then taut ahead, the wind W.S.W., with a very heavy sea, the ship canted suddenly with her head to the southward, where we had deep water; we immediately set our courses, jib and driver, and for some time had the must sanguine hopes of getting her off, but were unfortunately disappointed, and as the ebb made we were obliged again to furl sails.

'As the ship was then striking very hard, with a heavy sea breaking over her in a body, we cut away the topmasts, not only to ease her, but to prevent their falling upon deck; we also endeavoured to shore up the ship, but the motion was so violent that four and six parts of a five-inch hawser were repeatedly snapped, with which we were lashing the topmasts as shores, through the main-deck ports. At about eight P.M., fearing the inevitable loss of the ship, as the water was then gaining on the pumps, I availed myself of the first favourable moment to land the sick, and a party of marines and boys with some provisions,—this could only be effected at a certain time of tide, even with the wind off shore,—and employed those on board in getting upon deck what bread and other provisions could be come at.

'Though the water was still gaining on the pumps as the flood made, the wind coming more round to the northward, we again set our foresail, but without the desired effect. As the stream anchor had, however, come home, the wind was too doubtful to attempt to lighten the ship.

'Towards the afternoon, the wind again increasing from the W.S.W., and the water being on the lower deck, I judged it proper to send some provisions, with such men as could be best spared, on shore, that, in the event of the ship going to pieces, which was expected, the boats might be the better able to save those remaining on board; and on the morning of the 31st, conceiving every further effort for the preservation of the ship unavailing, it then blowing strong, with every appearance of increasing, I felt myself called on, by humanity as well as duty to my country, to use every effort in saving the lives of the people intrusted to my care, and accordingly directed the boats to land as many of them as possible, keeping the senior lieutenant and a few others on board with me.

'About half-past eleven P.M., the barge came off; and as the lives of the people were now the primary consideration, I sent as many of them on shore by her as possible, as well as by the launch, when she was able to come off; and at two A.M., on the 1st November, having previously succeeded in sending every other person on shore, I left the ship with regret, in the jolly boat, and landed, with some difficulty, through the surf. About eight A.M., the same morning, I attempted to go off in the barge to save as much provisions and stores as possible, but found it impracticable, as the boat was nearly swamped. All this and the succeeding day, the gale continuing, we could not launch the boats, and were employed carrying such provisions and stores as were saved, to some empty houses which were discovered about six miles to the eastward of where we landed. Finding that with all our exertions we had only been able to save three days' bread, the officers and crew were put upon half allowances, with the melancholy prospect of starving in the woods.

'During our stay near the wreck, we had repeated gales of wind, both to the eastward and westward; and so violent, and with so much sea, that the mizenmast was thrown overboard, all the upper deck beams broken, and the ship's bottom beaten out.

'We embraced every intervening opportunity of going off to save stores by scuttling the decks, which were covered with ice, the ship on her broadside, and the water flowing over the quarter-deck. On these occasions we were generally away ten or twelve hours, exposed to the wet and cold, without nourishment; from which, and fatigue, I had to lament seeing the people every day become more sickly, and many of them frost-bitten from the severity of the weather. By the indefatigable exertions of the officers and crew, we succeeded in saving all our spare sails, cables, and stores, to a considerable amount; though the cables were frozen so hard, that we were obliged to cut and saw them as junk.

'On the 7th, I again sent a boat with the second lieutenant, to Trois Pistoles, in the hope of procuring, if possible, some temporary supplies; but the wind increasing to a violent gale from the eastward, with a heavy fall of snow, they got frozen up on the opposite shore, and did not return till the 12th, having then only procured three hundred weight of flour, a few potatoes, and some beef—two men having deserted from the boat.

'On Sunday, the 20th November, we were relieved from the most painful state of anxiety by the arrival of a small schooner, with a fortnight's provisions, from Quebec, and information that a transport had been procured, and was equipping for us, which nothing but the ice setting in would prevent coming down; and on the 24th I had the satisfaction of receiving a letter by the government schooner, announcing a further supply of provisions, with some blankets for the people; it, however, then blew so hard, with a heavy fall of snow, that she was obliged to take shelter under Bie. On the 25th the schooner returned, when we embarked, and were carried to the opposite side of the river, where the transport was expected,—the pilot conceiving it unsafe to bring the ship nearer to us at that season of the year.'

'Captain Shephard concludes his narrative in paying the following tribute to the discipline and good conduct of his crew:—

The sufferings and privations endured by the officers and crew of the Banterer, during such trying circumstances, have been ably described in the above narrative of Captain Shephard. From the 29th of October, to the 24th of November, a period of twenty-seven days, these men, with little hopes of succour, had borne, with almost unexampled fortitude, not only hunger and cold, but, to use the words of the surgeon, 'a considerable number of the crew were affected with inflammation of the extremities, which in nearly twenty cases produced partial mortification, and one extensive gangrene on both feet, attended with delirium and other dangerous symptoms.'

Captain Shephard died, as rear-admiral, in 1841.

Captain Temple felt anxious for the safety of his ship and her crew, and he inquired of the pilots if any alteration could be made with advantage. They replied that none was necessary; but that the Crescent should be kept on the same tack till daylight. The vessel drifted till ten o'clock, P.M. when she struck. A boat was immediately lowered to sound. The men reported the current setting to eastward at the rate of two and a-half or three miles an hour.

The surviving officers and crew of the Crescent were tried by a court martial, at Sheerness, for the loss of the vessel, when the court was of opinion that 'the loss of the Crescent proceeded from the ignorance and neglect of the pilots, and that the master was blameable, inasmuch that he did not recommend to the captain or pilots either coming to an anchor, or standing on the other tact, for the better security of H.M. late ship Crescent.'

'The court was further of opinion that every exertion was made on the part of the remaining officers and crew for the safety of the Crescent.'

His Majesty's Ship Minotaur, of 74 guns, Captain John Barrett, was ordered by Admiral Sir James Saumarez to protect the last Baltic fleet, in the year 1810.

After seeing the convoy through the Belt, the ship sailed from Gottenburg about the 15th December, and, with a strong breeze from the east, shaped her course alone for the Downs.

At nine o'clock, the captain gave orders that soundings should be taken every hour, under the immediate direction of the pilot of the watch. At midnight, the pilot desired that the vessel might be put on the other tack, and all hands were instantly turned up to carry out his directions, and Lieutenant Snell was in the act of informing the captain of what was going on, when the ship struck.

The helm was ordered to be put up, but the first shock had carried away the tiller; fruitless attempts were then made to back the ship off, but she had struck with such force upon the sand that it was impossible to move her. The carpenter now reported fifteen feet water in the hold; and it increased so rapidly that in a few minutes it rose above the orlop deck. The officers and the whole of the ship's company were assembled upon deck, and the universal question passed from mouth to mouth—'On what coast have we struck?'

The pilot of the watch maintained that they were on some shoal in the English coast; the other pilot, however, was of opinion that they were upon the North Haacks, and this proved to be actually the case.

For a few minutes after the ship first struck there was some degree of confusion on board; but this soon subsided; order and tranquillity were restored, and the men all exerted themselves to the utmost, although she struck the ground so heavily, it was almost impossible for them to keep their feet.

At eight o'clock, A.M., the Minotaur parted amidships, and the sea made a clear breach over her. The gunner, seeing that she could not hold together much longer, volunteered to go off in the yard, and endeavour to obtain assistance from the shore. Captain Barrett at first refused the offer, as he thought it impossible the boat could live in such a sea; but upon further consideration, he gave his consent; and the gunner, with thirty-one of the crew, succeeded in launching the yaul, and getting clear of the wreck.

In the course of an hour, the launch gained the shore, where, instead of receiving the assistance they expected, and the kindness their unfortunate circumstances demanded, the crew were met by a party of French soldiers, and immediately made prisoners. In vain, they implored the Dutch officers, who were also on the beach, to send boats to the aid of their unhappy comrades on the wreck, their earnest entreaties were met by a cold refusal.

During the morning, Captain Barrett, and about a hundred men, attempted to reach the shore in the second yaul, but she was swamped and all were lost. At two o'clock in the afternoon, the after-part of the ship turned bottom up, and the remainder of the crew perished.

NOTE BY A NAVAL FRIEND.