Grace Darling, Eva Hope [free ebook reader for pc TXT] 📗

a freight of six hundred and thirty persons, out of which number, one hundred and ninety-two alone reached their destination. A court-martial was held for inquiry, when it was admitted that the vessel should have been kept farther out at sea, so as not to have incurred the dangers of that rocky coast; but appended to the verdict was the following remark—"If such be the case, the court still are not precluded from speaking with praise of the departed, for the coolness which they displayed in the moment of extreme peril, and for the laudable anxiety shown for the safety of the women and children, to the exclusion of all selfish considerations."

On the 26th October, 1859, was lost the "Royal Charter," in which four hundred and fifty-nine persons perished. This vessel was on a return voyage from Melbourne, Australia, and was conveying men and women, who had once been emigrants, back to their native land. Steering carefully round Cape Horn, the captain skilfully avoided those huge blocks of ice which carry destruction to the unwary sailor. Nearing the south, they encountered a violent storm, which the vessel outrode, receiving little or no damage. As the gale subsided, the spirits of the company rose, and all became intent upon getting as much enjoyment as possible out of a smooth passage. Looking forward to a speedy disembarkation, valuable presents were given to Captain Taylor for his capable management of the vessel, and assiduity in securing the comfort of the passengers, and to the Rev. Mr. Hodge, who had performed the service of chaplain at their request. Several passengers landed at Queenstown. The owners of the vessel having received news of its arrival, publicity was made to the announcement, so that many who were expecting long absent friends hastened to Liverpool for an early greeting.

The "Great Eastern" being at anchor in the waters off Holyhead, the passengers of the "Royal Charter" pressed Captain Taylor to steer as closely as possible to the coast, in order to afford them a glimpse of its bulky dimensions. This he readily complied with, and they were soon skirting the rock-bound shores of Cardigan Bay.

As the day proceeded the wind increased; gathering such force, as darkness settled, that the passengers became filled with nervous apprehensions. The ship's speed decreased suddenly. Almost touching the Isle of Anglesea, the captain endeavoured to procure assistance by the firing of rockets; but no one appears to have observed them. Anchors were cast two hours before midnight, and the passengers grew still more alarmed. A few hours more, and this magnificent vessel, the "Royal Charter," was a complete wreck.

Many of the passengers had not attempted to take their usual repose. The vessel dashing on to a rock brought every man on deck in an instant. Captain Withers was heard to exclaim, "Come, directly; we are all lost! I will take your child; come along." A heart-rending scene followed, last embraces were fervently given and returned, and dismal shrieks penetrated the atmosphere. The Rev. Mr. Hodge, calm in the "full assurance of faith," lifted up an earnest petition to Him who is mighty to save. Soon the noise of the water pouring on deck became audible to those below. Several of the officers endeavoured to inspire the women with courage and hope, saying that the vessel was only beaching herself on a sandy bed, but a few yards distant from the land. Morning, however, failed to verify this statement: they were decidedly too far away from the shore to reach it without aid. A Welshman, looking seaward at early dawn, discovered the sad plight of the sinking ship, and hastily ran for help. During his absence the ship again collided, with greater force.

Eventually, an immense wave, breaking on deck, snapped the iron-work and timbers asunder, as though they had been brittle as glass. Many people, gathered in the centre of the vessel, were literally smashed. The greater part escaped the agonies of a protracted struggle, owing to the floating timbers and numerous crags that abounded; many received from one or the other a fatal blow.

The men of the Welsh coast waded in as far as they dared, to help all who were thrown within their reach, and not a few were saved in this way. The bodies of those who had perished, being washed ashore, were shrouded, and laid in rows in a neighbouring churchyard, awaiting recognition. Many harrowing tales are told of scenes witnessed there, as the anxious searchers discovered, in some mutilated remains, traces of a well-loved friend.

The "Royal Charter" was laden with gold to the amount of 70,000 pounds, the principal part of which was brought up by divers.

On the 11th January, 1866, the "London" foundered and sank, in the Bay of Biscay, carrying down with her two hundred and thirty-six people. Sailing from Gravesend, she was making her way to Australia. At starting, many indications were noted of foul weather ahead. The sea became so rough that, on approaching the Nore, anchors were cast; but the weather clearing, and prospects generally brightening, an early opportunity was taken for clearing the Channel. The Bay of Biscay was reached on Monday, where the vessel, being badly constructed, exhibited many extraordinary freaks, and shipped a vast quantity of water. One of the mariners observed, "She frightens me; I do not know what to make of her."

Serious damage being done by the heavy seas that continually washed over the vessel, it was thought wise to return. The force of the winds increasing caused the vessel to rear over, first on one side, and then on the other, sucking up a vast quantity of water each time. Bedding, wearing apparel, food, and fruit, were floating together in strange confusion. All the men were told to cluster on the poop, to ease the ship, the tumultuously-upheaving waves threatening instant submersion. Many people congregated in the cuddy, listening to the fervent exhortations of the Rev. Mr. Draper. Devout and earnest prayers were offered by this good man, which never failed to soothe and strengthen the most timid and distressed. The ladies seconded the men in all their efforts to keep the vessel under control. When it became evident that nothing could save her, the captain's announcement of the fact was received with calmness and resignation. Beyond a smothered sob, or a heart-broken—"Oh, pray with me, Mr. Draper!" no audible sound rose above the noise of the storm. Families grouped themselves together, enfolding each other in a last loving embrace. Men were discovered, in various parts of the ship, with their Bibles open.

Some of the crew were observed tapping casks of grog, several being intoxicated. The captain instantly came to them, and implored them to prepare for death in a better way than that.

At two o'clock P.M., on the 11th January, several of the sailors resolved upon attempting to launch a small boat, in which to make their escape from the vessel. The endeavour was attended with considerable danger, and the men knew it. Compasses, oars, and other useful articles, were lowered with the boat, and many of the passengers eagerly sought this one remaining chance. A young lady of remarkable beauty promised to give 500 pounds to whoever would save her. Another, leaning over the vessel, beseechingly urged a young man to rescue her. This he promised to do if she would leap into the boat; but fear restrained her, and she was unwillingly left behind.

A description of the sinking of the vessel, given by an eye-witness, is as follows:—"The sun just shone out at that time, which made the scene appear worse to me. I thought dark and gloom more suitable for such a sad moment, and most in keeping with the feelings of those on board. The foresail was still standing, also half of the maintopsail. The mizen yards were swinging about, not braced; the wreck of the foretopmast still hanging and swinging to and fro; the gangways knocked out; the bulwarks all standing as good as when she left the docks. The stern very low in the water, the bows pretty well out of it, so that we could see the red-painted bottom, or coloured iron by rust; the jibboom gone. Soon we ran down in the trough of a large sea, and were hid from sight of her. When we came up, we could see she had changed her position very much; we could not see the after-part of the vessel—whether under water, or hid by a sea, I cannot tell; her bows were high out of the water; and by the pitch or rake of the mast, we could see that she was at an angle of about forty-five degrees. Soon another wave came, and we ran down in the trough of another sea; when we came up, there was nothing to be seen of the 'London.'"

On the 7th September, 1870, foundered the "Captain" off Cape Finisterre, in which five hundred lives were sacrificed.

The "Captain" was built for the purpose of illustrating a new principle, that of the modern turret, and said to surpass the "Monarch," as yet considered the nearest approach to perfection in shipbuilding.

On the 6th of September, 1870, several vessels of the British fleet were cruising together off the coast of Spain, the "Captain" being amongst the number. Although the clouds to the west looked sombre and heavy, there was no apparent signs of a storm; but during the night the barometer fell and the winds arose. The "Captain" was observed by the crew of the "Lord Warden," following a north-west passage. A white squall battled for a couple of hours with the vessels, damaging each to a considerable extent. When morning dawned, the "Captain" was missed. It was supposed, however, that she had merely sailed out of sight, but daylight showed the awful fact that the ship had gone down. Portions of wreck were seen floating on the tide, and recognised as having belonged to the "Captain."

The details of the sad event became known when the few survivors reached England. Captain Burgoyne was on deck when the catastrophe happened, remaining there as the night grew stormy. The middle watch was mustered duly at midnight, and the former one retired. Immediately after a wave, curling over the vessel, flooded her decks and turned her completely on her side. The next instant, and the sails went under, nothing but the ship's keel being visible. The men of the watch, after recovering the shock of the sudden immersion, perceiving a life-boat drifting keel upward, instantly made for her. By means of this, many were enabled to support themselves for a considerable time. After floating a while in this way, a boat was observed coming towards them, in which were seated a couple of men. As soon as it was within reach most of the men sprang gratefully in; but before Captain Burgoyne and a seaman, named Heard, had time to leap, their chance was gone—a huge wave washing the boat apart.

One amongst the number of the saved said that the men were literally carried wholesale from the decks by the huge seas that swept over them. A man, named Hirst, after being carried down with the vessel, rose and succeeded in grasping a piece of the wreck, to which he lashed himself with a handkerchief. Drifting along in this manner he came across the boat and its unfortunate occupants, who speedily hauled him in.

A memorial window may now be seen in Westminster Abbey, to the five hundred men who perished thus in their country's service.

More recently still was the wreck of the "Northfleet," off Dungeness, on the 22nd of January, 1873, run down, while lying at anchor, by the carelessness of a foreign sea captain. Many accounts of the sad event, elicited from the survivors, were given in the journals of that date. An abridged copy of one is as follows:—

"The pilot passed the word to drop anchor off Dungeness. Here we lay snug enough, and at eight o'clock the watch