June 28, 1654.
Whitelocke’s great deliverance. This Wednesday was the day of Whitelocke’s greatest deliverance. After midnight, till three o’clock in the afternoon, was a great calm, and though the ‘President’ were taken with it, yet the ‘Elizabeth’ had a good wind; and notwithstanding that the day before she was left behind a great distance, yet this morning she came up near to him, and got before him; so great is the difference sometimes, and at so small a distance, at sea, that here one ship shall have no wind at all, and another ship a few yards from her shall have her sails filled. Notwithstanding the calm, yet the wind being by flashes large, they went the last night and the day before twenty leagues up and down, sometimes in their course and sometimes out of it. In the morning, sounding with the plummet, the pilot judged that they were about sixteen leagues from the Texel, and twenty-four from Orfordness, but he did not certainly know whereabouts they were. Between three and four o’clock in the afternoon the wind came to north-north-west, which gave them hopes of finishing their voyage the sooner, and it blew a fresh gale.
About five o’clock in the evening rose a very great fog and thick mist, so that it was exceeding dark, and they could not see their way a ship’s length before them. Whitelocke came upon the decks, and seeing the weather so bad and night coming on, and that all their sails were spread, and they ran extraordinary fast, he did not like it, but called together the captain, the master, the pilot, and others, to consult what was best to be done. He asked them why they spread all their sails, and desired to make so much way in so ill weather, and so near to night. They said they had so much sail because the wind favoured them, and that notwithstanding the bad weather they might safely run as they did, having sea-room enough. Whitelocke asked them if they knew whereabouts they were. They confessed they did not, because they had been so much tossed up and down by contrary winds, and the sun had not shined, whereby they might take the elevation. Whitelocke replied, that, having been driven forward and backward as they had been, it was impossible to know where they were; that the ship had run, and did now run, extraordinary fast, and if she should run so all night, perhaps they might be in danger of the English coast or of the Holland coast; and that by Norfolk there were great banks of sand, by which he had passed at sea formerly, and which could not be unknown to them; that in case the ship should fall upon those sands, or any other dangers of that coast, before morning, they should be all lost; and therefore he thought fit to take down some of their sails and slacken their course till, by daylight, they might come to know more certainly in what part they were.
The officers of the ship continued earnest to hold on their course, saying they would warrant it that there was running enough for all night, and that to take down any sail, now the wind was so good for them, would be a great wrong to them in their course. But Whitelocke was little satisfied with their reasons, and less with their warranties, which among them are not of binding force. His own reason showed him, that, not knowing where they were, and in such weather as this to run on as they did, they knew not whither, with all their sails spread, might be dangerous; but to take down some of their sails and to slacken their course could be no danger, and but little prejudice in the hindrance of their course this night, which he thought better to be borne than to endanger all.
He orders sail to be taken in. But chiefly it was the goodness of God to put it strongly upon Whitelocke’s heart to overrule the seamen in this particular, though in their own art, and though his own desires were sufficiently earnest to hasten to his dear relations and country; yet the present haste he feared might hinder the seeing of them at all. Upon a strange earnestness in his own mind and judgement, he gave a positive command to the captain to cause all the sails to be taken down except the mainsail only, and that to be half-furled. Upon the captain’s dispute, Whitelocke with quickness told him that if he did not presently see it done he would cause another to do it, whereupon the captain obeyed; and it was a great mercy that the same was done, which God directed as a means to save their lives.
After the sails were taken down, Whitelocke also ordered them to sound and try what water and bottom they had. About ten o’clock in the evening sounding, they found eighteen fathom water; the next sounding they had but fifteen fathom, and so lessened every sounding till they came to eight fathom, which startled them, and made them endeavour to tack about. But it was too late, for within less than a quarter of an hour after they had eighteen fathom water, The ship strikes. the ship struck upon a bank of sand, and there stuck fast. Whitelocke was sitting with some of the gentlemen in the steerage-room when this happened, and felt a strange motion of the frigate, as if she had leaped, and not unlike the curveting of a great horse; and the violence of the striking threw several of the gentlemen from off their seats into the midst of the room. The condition they were in was quickly understood, and both seamen and landsmen discovered it by the wonderful terror and amazement which had seized on them, and more upon the seamen than others who knew less of the danger.
It pleased his good God to keep up the spirits and faith of Whitelocke in this great extremity; and when nothing would be done but what he in person ordered, in this frightful confusion God gave him extraordinary fixedness and assistance, a temper and constancy of spirit beyond what was usual with him. He ordered the master-gunner presently to fire some pieces of ordnance, after the custom at sea, to signify their being in distress. But the gunner was so amazed with the danger, that he forgot to unbrace the guns, and shot away the main-sheet; and had not the ship been strong and staunch, the guns being fired when they were close braced, they had broke the sides of her. Whitelocke caused the guns to be unbraced and divers of them fired, to give notice to the ‘Elizabeth,’ or any other ship that might be within hearing, to come in to their assistance; but they heard no guns again to answer theirs, though they longed for it, hoping that the ‘Elizabeth,’ or any other ship coming in to them, by their boats might save the lives of some of them. Whitelocke also caused lights to be set up in the top-gallant, used at sea by those in distress to invite help; but the lights were not answered again by any other ship or vessel; particularly they wondered that nothing was heard or seen from the ‘Elizabeth.’
Whitelocke then ordered the sails of the ship to be reversed, that the wind, being high, might so help them off; but no help was by it, nor by all the people’s coming together to the stern, then to the head, then to the sides of the ship, all in a heap together; nothing would help them. Then Whitelocke ordered the mariners to hoist out one of the boats, in which some of the company would have persuaded Whitelocke to put himself and to leave the rest, and seek to preserve his own life by trusting to the seas in this boat; and they that advised this, offered willingly to go with him.
But Whitelocke knew that if he should go into the boat, besides the dishonour of leaving his people in this distress, so many would strive to enter into the boat with him (a life knows no ceremony) that probably the boat would be sunk by the crowding; and there was little hope of escaping in such a boat, though he should get well off from the ship and the boat not be overladen. He therefore ordered the captain to take a few of the seamen into the boat with him, and to go round the ship and sound what water was on each side of her, and what hopes they could find, and by what means to get her off, himself resolving to abide the same fortune with his followers.
The captain found it very shallow to windward, and very deep to leeward, but no hopes of help; and at his return the master advised to lighten the ship by casting overboard the goods in her. Whitelocke held it best to begin with the ordnance, and gave order for it. Mr. Earle was contriving how to save his master’s jewels, which were of some value; his master took more care to save his papers, to him more precious jewels; but there was no hope of saving any goods or lives. Whitelocke put in his pocket a tablet of gold of his wife’s picture, that this, being found about his dead body when it should be taken up, might show him to have been a gentleman, and satisfy for his burial. One was designing to get upon a plank, others upon the masts, others upon other fancies, any way to preserve life; but no way was left whereby they could have the least shadow or hopes of a deliverance.
The captain went up to the quarter-deck, saying, there he lived and there he would die. All the officers, sadly enough, concluded that there was not the least show of any hopes of preservation, but that they were all dead men, and that upon the return of the tide the ship would questionless be dashed in pieces. Some lay crying in one corner, others lamenting in another; some, who vaunted most in time of safety, were now most dejected. The tears and sighs and wailings in all parts of the ship would have melted a stony heart into pity; every swelling wave seemed great in expectation of its booty; the raging waves foamed as if their prey were too long detained from them; every billow threatened present death, who every moment stared in their faces for almost two hours together.
Exhorts his sons. In this condition Whitelocke encouraged his two sons to undergo the pleasure of God with all submission. He was sorry for them, being young men, who might have lived many years to do God and their country service, that they now should be snatched away so untimely; but he told them, that if father and sons must now die together, he doubted not but they should go together to that happiness which admits no change; that he did not so much lament his own condition, being an old man, in the course of nature much nearer the grave than they: but he besought God to bless them and yet to appear for their deliverance, if it were His will, or else to give him and them, and all the company, hearts willing to submit to His good pleasure.
Discourse with the boatswain. Walking on the decks to see his orders executed for throwing the ordnance overboard, the boatswain met him and spake to him in his language:—
Boatswain. My Lord, what do you mean to do?
Whitelocke. Wherein dost thou ask my meaning?
Bo. You have commanded the ordnance to be cast overboard.
Wh. It is for our preservation.
Bo. If it be done, we are all destroyed.
Wh. What reason have you to be of this opinion? Must we not lighten the ship? and can we do it better than to begin with the ordnance?
Bo. It may do well to lighten the ship, but not by throwing overboard the ordnance; for you can but drop them close to the ship’s side, and where the water is shallow they will lie up against the side of the ship and fret it, and with the working of the sea make her to spring leaks presently.
Wh. I think thou speakest good reason, and I will try a little longer before it be done.
Bo. My Lord, do not doubt but God will show Himself, and bring you off by His own hand from this danger.
Wh. Hast thou any ground to judge so, or dost thou see any probability of it?
Bo. I confess there is no probability for it; but God hath put it into my heart to tell your Excellence that He will appear our Deliverer when all other hopes and helps fail us, and He will save us by His own power; and let us trust in Him.
Upon this discourse with the honest boatswain, who walked up and down as quite unconcerned, Whitelocke forbade the throwing of the ordnance overboard; and as he was sitting on the deck, Mr. Ingelo, one of his chaplains, came to him, and said that he was glad to see him in so good a temper.
Whitelocke. I bless God, who keeps up my spirit.
Ingelo. My Lord, such composedness, and not being daunted in this distress, is a testimony of God’s presence with you.
Wh. I have cause to thank God, whose presence hath been with me in all my dangers, and most in this greatest, which I hope and pray that He would fit us all to submit unto.
Ing. I hope He will; and I am glad to see your sons and others to have so much courage left in so high a danger.
Wh. God hath not suffered me, nor them, nor yourself, to be dejected in this great trial; and it gives me comfort at this time to observe it, nor doth it leave me without some hopes that God hath yet a mercy in store for us.
Ing. There is little hopes of continuance in this life, it is good to prepare ourselves for a better life; and therefore, if you please that the company may be called together into your cabin, it will be good to join in prayer, and recommending our souls to Him that gave them; I believe they are not to remain long in these bodies of clay.
Wh. I hope every one doth this apart, and it is very fit likewise to join together in doing it; therefore I pray send and call the people into my cabin to prayer.
Whilst Mr. Ingelo was gone to call the people together, a mariner came from the head of the ship, running hastily towards Whitelocke, and crying out to him, which caused Whitelocke to suspect that the ship had sprung a leak or was sinking. The mariner called out:—
The ship moves, Mariner. My Lord! my Lord! my Lord!
Whitelocke. What’s the matter, mariner?
Mar. She wags! she wags!
Wh. Which way doth she wag?
Mar. To leeward.
Wh. I pray God that be true; and it is the best news that ever I heard in my life.
Mar. My Lord, upon my life the ship did wag; I saw her move.
Wh. Mr. Ingelo, I pray stay awhile before you call the people; it may be God will give us occasion to change the style of our prayers. Fellow-seaman, show me where thou sawest her move.
Mar. My Lord, here, at the head of the frigate, I saw her move, and she moves now,—now she moves! you may see it.
Wh. My old eyes cannot discern it.
Mar. I see it plain, and so do others.
and rights. Whilst they were thus speaking and looking, within less than half a quarter of an hour, the ship herself came off from the sand, and miraculously floated on the water. The ship being thus by the wonderful immediate hand of God, again floating on the sea, the mariners would have been hoisting of their sails, but Whitelocke forbade it, and said he would sail no more that night. But as soon as the ship had floated a good way from the bank of sand, he caused them to let fall their anchors, that they might stay till morning, to see where they were, and spend the rest of the night in giving thanks to God for his most eminent, most miraculous deliverance.
Being driven by the wind about a mile from the sand, there they cast anchor, and fell into discourse of the providences and goodness of God to them in this unhoped-for preservation. One observed, that if Whitelocke had not positively overruled the seamen, and made them, contrary to their own opinions, to take down their sails, but that the ship had run with all her sails spread, and with that force had struck into the sand, it had been impossible for her ever to have come off again, but they must all have perished. Another observed, that the ship did strike so upon the bank of sand, that the wind was on that side of her where the bank was highest, and so the strength of the wind lay to drive the ship from the bank towards the deep water.
Another supposed, that the ship did strike on the shelving part of the bank of sand, and the wind blowing from the higher part of the bank, the weight of the ship thus pressed by the wind, and working towards the lower part of the shelving of the bank, the sand crumbled away from the ship, and thereby and with the wind she was set on-float again. Another observed, that if the ship had struck higher on the bank or deeper, when her sails had been spread, with the force of her way, they could not in the least probability have been saved.
Another observed, that through the goodness of God the wind rose higher, and came more to that side of the ship where the bank of sand was highest, after the ship was struck, which was a great means of her coming off; and that, as soon as she was floated, the wind was laid and came about again to another quarter. Another observed, that it being at that time ebbing water was a great means of their preservation; because the ship being so far struck into the sand, and so great a ship, a flowing water could not have raised her; but upon the coming in of the tide she would questionless have been broke in pieces.
The mariners said, that if God had not loved the landmen more than the seamen they should never have come off from this danger. Every one made his observations. Whitelocke concluded them to this purpose:
Whitelocke orders a thanksgiving to God. “Gentlemen,
“I desire that we may all join together in applying these observations and mercies to the praise of God, and to the good of our own souls. Let me exhort you never to forget this deliverance and this signal mercy. While the love of God is warm upon our hearts, let us resolve to retain a thankful memory of it to our lives’ end, and, for the time to come, to employ those lives, which God hath now given to us and renewed to us, to the honour and praise of Him, who hath thus most wonderfully and most mercifully revived us, and as it were new created us. Let us become new creatures; forsake your former lusts in your ignorance, and follow that God fully, who hath so eminently appeared for us, to save us out of our distress; and as God hath given us new lives, so let us live in newness of life and holiness of conversation.”
Whitelocke caused his people to come into his cabin, where Mr. Ingelo prayed with them, and returned praises to the Lord for this deliverance: an occasion sufficient to elevate his spirit, and, meeting with his affections and abilities, tended the more to the setting forth His glory, whose name they had so much cause more than others to advance and honour.
Many of the seamen came in to prayers, and Whitelocke talked with divers of them upon the mercy they had received, who seemed to be much moved with the goodness of God to them; and Whitelocke sought to make them and all the company sensible of God’s gracious dealings, and to bring it home to the hearts of them. He also held it a duty to leave to his own family this large relation, and remembrance of the Lord’s signal mercy to him and his; whereby they might be induced the more to serve the God of their fathers, to trust in Him who never fails those that seek Him, and to love that God entirely who hath manifested so much love to them, and that in their greatest extremities; and hereby to endeavour that a grateful acknowledgment of the goodness and unspeakable love of God might be transmitted to his children’s children; that as God never forgets to be gracious, so his servants may never forget to be thankful, but to express the thankfulness of their hearts by the actions of their lives.
Whitelocke spent this night in discourses upon this happy subject, and went not to bed at all, but expected the return of day; and, the more to express cheerfulness to the seamen, he promised that as soon as light did appear, if they would up to the shrouds and top, he that could first descry land should have his reward, and a bottle of good sack advantage.