CHAPTER III. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE VRYHEID.
To-night, boys, I am going to give you an account of perhaps one of the most heart-rending shipwrecks with which I am acquainted; the more so that upwards of four hundred and fifty lives were lost, in all probability, entirely in consequence of the obstinacy of the captain.
Four hundred and fifty lives, Uncle Thomas! The very number is appalling.
It is indeed, John; but it is nevertheless true, that if the captain had taken the advice of those who warned him of the danger into which he was running, he and his crew might have escaped, as you shall hear. The shipwreck I refer to, is that of the Vryheid, which took place near Dover, in the beginning of the present century.
The Melville Castle, a British East Indiaman, after having performed the usual number of voyages, was sold by the East India Company to an agent of the merchants of Amsterdam, trading to the East Indies. She was carried to Amsterdam, where she underwent a tolerable repair in her upper works, and was new sheathed and coppered, but her knees and timbers remained in a very decayed state. Thus patched up, the Company tendered her to the Dutch government, which was then in want of a vessel to carry out troops and stores to Batavia. A surveyor was immediately ordered on board, who reported that the ship was in perfect repair, and wanted nothing but the necessary stores to equip her for the intended voyage. She was accordingly furnished with all the requisite stores, was painted throughout, and received the name of the Vryheid.
Having received on board the troops, consisting of three hundred and twenty men, the flower of the regiment, who were selected out of nearly one thousand, to form the second battalion of marines in the service of the Batavian republic, the ship got under way on the morning of the 21st November, 1802, and proceeded with a favorable breeze till early in the morning of the following day, when it began to blow a heavy gale from a contrary direction. The captain immediately ordered the top-gallant masts and yards to be struck, when the vessel appeared to ride easier than before. As the day opened, however, the wind blew with increased violence, and every exertion of the crew to render the ship manageable, proved ineffectual.
The most serious apprehensions soon began to be entertained for the safety of the vessel; and the state of the ladies on board was particularly distressing. Some embraced their helpless offspring and wept over them in speechless agony, while others in vain implored their husbands to procure the means of landing them in safety on their native shore, and to give up the voyage. The commander, Captain Scherman, was himself in a very trying situation. His wife was on board, with an infant only three months old; and her affliction was aggravated by being surrounded with so many females, fondly weeping over their little ones, and earnestly entreating assistance of the captain, who had the utmost difficulty to prevail on them to leave him, so that he might attend to the duties of his station.
The ship continued to drive before the wind till about three o'clock in the afternoon, when the storm increased to a perfect hurricane. Soon after that hour, the mainmast went by the board, with a tremendous crash, and, in its fall, swept overboard several of the crew, besides wounding four or five others. This disaster greatly augmented the fears of all on board. The captain himself, the admiral, and the other officers, now seemed to consider their lives in the most imminent danger; for though they were so near the Kentish shore, that they could discern objects on land, yet the waves, which then rolled mountains high, totally precluded the possibility of their receiving assistance.
In this emergency they hoisted a signal of distress, and after very great exertion, they managed to bring the ship to anchor at the entrance of Hythe Bay; but as it was now quite dark, they could obtain no assistance from the shore, though the wind was not quite so tempestuous. By the captain's orders the crew were plentifully regaled, and a beam of hope illumined every countenance; but, alas! it was but of momentary duration. The ship was found to have sprung a leak: all hands were ordered to the pumps; and while they were thus employed, the storm again came on with redoubled violence.
Universal consternation now prevailed, and the piercing shrieks of the women and children, at each successive blast of wind, were sufficient to unman the stoutest heart. Every relief that circumstances would admit was afforded by the ship's company and the troops, to the unfortunate ladies, many of whom were, by this time, clinging round their husbands and fainting in their arms.
They remained in this dismal situation for several hours, during which the greatest order and sobriety reigned on board, till about six o'clock on the succeeding morning, when the vessel parted from her best bower-anchor, and drifted towards Dymchurch Wall, about three miles to the westward of Hythe. They continued to fire guns of distress, and kept the signal flying during the whole of the morning. At day-break, a pilot-boat put off from Dover, and coming near, recommended the captain to put back to Deal or Hythe, and to remain till the weather became more moderate. "If you proceed," said the boatman, "all hands will be lost; you are evidently unacquainted with the coast, and if the gale should continue, no power on earth can save you." The captain, however, conceiving the danger to be less imminent than was represented, neglected this advice, hoping that, as the day opened, the wind would abate, when he should be enabled to put into some bay or port, without being obliged to comply with the demands of the Dover pilots, or pay the Downs fees for coming to anchor there.
The pilot-boat had scarcely left the ship, when the commodore at Deal despatched two boats to endeavor to board the ship, when the unaccountable and fatal obstinacy of the captain was again strikingly displayed; the crew were ordered to let the vessel drive before the wind, and to pay no attention to the recommendations of the commodore. The boats then fired several shots as a further signal to bring to, but these were equally disregarded. A few minutes afterwards, one of the boats passed close under the stern, and as the ship had lost her mainmast, desired she would immediately put about and stand for the first port. But to this, like the former solicitations, they gave no reply, and the gale increasing, they soon lost sight of both the boats. The ill-fated captain was now in a state of the greatest agitation, and bitterly repented his refusal to take a pilot on board, but it was now too late; the roar of the sea was terrific, and such a tremendous swell, that the chance of any relief being afforded from the shore was completely prevented.
The wind now blew a perfect hurricane from the south and south-west; the signal-guns they continued to fire incessantly, and the captain twice attempted to put the ship about, but all his exertions proved fruitless. She was now near Dymchurch Wall, where the coast, for the space of above two miles, is protected from the encroachment of the sea by overlaths and immense piles, and is further secured by large wooden jetties stretching far into the sea. On the first of these jetties the unfortunate vessel struck.
In this desperate situation, with the wind becoming more and more boisterous, the captain ordered the mizenmast to be cut away, and all the water in the hold to be started, by staving the casks; while a part of the crew, under the direction of the officers, were incessantly employed at the pumps. They also threw nearly the whole of the ballast overboard; but in spite of all their exertions, the danger seemed every moment to increase. So maddening was the reflection of what might have been their situation had a pilot not been refused, that the officers could not refrain from reproaching the captain with having slighted the advice of the English in the boats: he appeared to be deeply sensible of his error, but it was now too late.
The admiral recommended the sheet anchor to be cut away, which was accordingly done, but, notwithstanding this precaution, the unfortunate ship continued to beat upon the piles, and the sea to break over her with such violence, that the men were no longer able to remain in the hold. The pumps had now become so completely choked with sand and mud, that they were rendered totally useless, and a speedy destruction of the vessel and all on board appeared to be inevitable. The foremast soon afterwards went over the ship's side, carrying along with it about twelve of the crew, who were soon swallowed up by the waves. The ladies now began to prepare for the worst, and several of them, for greater security, were handed to the bowsprit, attended by their husbands. The others chose to wait their fate on the quarter-deck, where stood the miserable Captain Scherman, in silent despair at the unavailing cries for assistance of those around him; while his unfortunate wife, in all the bitterness of maternal anguish, was clinging to his feet.
About eight o'clock, the rudder was discovered to be unshipped, while the tiller was tearing up the gun-deck, and the water rushing in with fearful rapidity at the port-holes. At this moment most of the passengers and crew joined in solemn prayer to the Almighty; and while engaged in this act of devotion, the sea, foaming dreadfully, made a breach completely over them, so that they were obliged to exert every effort to prevent their being swept out of the ship. From the uncommon fury and roaring of the waves, the signal-guns, which they continued to fire from time to time, could scarcely be heard even on board; and no hope remained of their obtaining assistance from the shore. As a last expedient, the captain gave orders to cut away the anchors from the bows, when a violent swell immediately parted them, and the ship drifted with irresistible force farther on the piles.
The morning was unusually dark, and to aggravate the horrors of the terrific scene, the ship was not more than four or five cables' lengths from the shore; so that the crew could see that there were several people on the Wall, but who were unable to afford them any assistance. It was now half past eight, when a tremendous sea dashed with such force against the ill-fated vessel, that, after rocking like a cradle for two or three seconds, her timbers split, and she immediately broke in pieces. About one hundred and seventy persons were instantly overwhelmed by the furious element, and not one of them ever reached the land. The wreck, thus torn asunder, still presented nearly three hundred miserable objects clinging to the various parts that remained above water; while the tremendous noise of the foaming billows was drowned by the piercing shrieks and cries of the hapless women and children.
At the earnest request of the admiral, the jolly-boat, which was hanging over the stern, was now launched; and he, together with the colonel and eight females, were helped into it. They had not, however, proceeded far when a dreadful sea broke over them, and the boat instantly disappeared. In a few moments the colonel was observed endeavoring to support his wife above water, when a wave overwhelmed them, and they also sank to rise no more.
As the ship was now settling rapidly, each determined to risk some experiment to reach the shore. The captain proposed to his wife that they should make themselves fast to a large hen-coop, and commit their lives to the mercy of the waves. A few of the crew having cut away the coop, they with great difficulty made fast the captain and Mrs. Scherman, and after an affectionate parting, lowered them down over the stern. They had nearly reached the Wall, followed by the anxious looks of those who had remained on board the wreck, when a large piece that had been detached from it, was violently dashed against them, and they were never seen to rise again.
Painful as this spectacle must necessarily have been to the remaining survivers, their attention was completely absorbed in contriving means for their own preservation. A lieutenant, his wife, and two female domestics of the unfortunate admiral, still remained on the wreck, and the men agreed to make one more effort to save them. Seizing one of the hatches which had been torn asunder, they fastened it to a piece of the quarter-galley, and lashed the females to the planks, while the lieutenant, who was a good swimmer, stripped himself, and having taken a rope round his waist, the raft was lowered into the water. They had scarcely been a few seconds upon the water, when a violent gust of wind overset the raft, and every soul on it was hurried into eternity. Thus perished all the officers and females who had remained on the stern of the wreck.
About this time, the bowsprit was torn asunder from the other parts of the wreck. I have already told you that many of the females and officers had taken refuge upon it, and the number of persons about the rigging and various parts of the bows was now above a hundred, who were driven towards the Wall by the violence of the surf. Those who were upon the stern watched the progress of their companions with the utmost solicitude, and just as they supposed them to be beyond the reach of further danger, a tremendous sea broke over them, and whelmed them all in one general destruction.
The surface of the ocean was instantly covered with their bodies, and many of the unhappy creatures had almost reached the shore; but wave upon wave succeeded each other with fearful rapidity, and finally triumphed over all their exertions. Among the most distressing instances of individual suffering, was that of a captain of the marines, who was swimming with one hand, and with the other endeavoring to support his wife by the hair of her head; till, overcome by cold and fatigue, he turned round, clasped her in his arms, and both sank amid the waves.
The wreck, meanwhile, was gradually disappearing, and many of the seamen and marines, successively seizing on various timbers, precipitated themselves into the danger they were so anxious to avoid; but it may naturally be supposed, that after so many dreadful examples, those who still remained on the wreck should not be willing to attempt similar experiments. Of these there were now not more than forty-five on both parts of the wreck, which frequently became so entangled, that the men were near enough to hold a conversation with each other. Their fate, however, was now rapidly approaching to a crisis; from all parts, the planks were being torn away, and each succeeding wave was fatal to two or three of the wretched survivers. At length, two of the seamen determined to lash themselves to a large hog-trough, and endeavor to reach the land: they were handed over the larboard side, and after a miraculous escape from coming in contact with a fragment of the drifting wreck, they fortunately succeeded in reaching the shore in safety, being the first out of all the adventurers who had quitted the ship that were successful.
Their success greatly contributed to animate the exertions of those whom they had left behind, and who instantly fell to work to construct a raft, which, in a few minutes, was sufficiently compact for them to make the attempt. To this frail structure did the survivers commit their lives; and they had scarcely got clear of the wreck, when a heavy sea struck it with such violence, that it was dashed into a thousand pieces. The situation of those on the raft was now peculiarly awful, from the numerous fragments of the wreck, which were floating about in every direction, and by the violence of their motions threatening instant destruction. They continued, however, to drift nearer the Wall, when they were run foul of by a piece of the wreck, which swept off eighteen out of the thirty-three who were upon the raft, and wounded most of the others in a greater or less degree; at the same time they were driven forward with such velocity, that it was impossible to afford any relief to those who were struck off. About ten minutes after this fatal accident the survivers succeeded in reaching the long-wished-for shore, half dead with fatigue and the severe bruises which they had received.
Thus, of four hundred and seventy-two persons, who, but a few days before had left the city of Amsterdam, and who were but a few hours before on board the Vryheid, in full health and confidence of security, not more than eighteen escaped. This wretched remnant of the crew of that ill-fated vessel received from the inhabitants of the adjacent coast, such generous attention, as not only contributed to their recovery, but amply relieved all their necessities. The bodies of the unfortunate sufferers, which were scattered along the coast for many miles, were likewise collected, and decently interred. The bodies of Captain Scherman and his wife, and many of the officers and their ladies, were committed to the grave with every mark of respect.
Oh dreadful, Uncle Thomas! Poor, poor Captain Scherman; what shocking reflections must have been his when he found what fearful effects were resulting from his obstinacy!
They must have been shocking indeed, Frank. Let us gather wisdom from his experience, dreadful as it was, and learn from it that an obstinate and self-willed adherence to our own opinions, in opposition to those whose experience leads them to take a different view from us, is not only culpable, but highly dangerous—how dangerous, in this instance, may perhaps be gathered from the fact, that a small merchant vessel, which left the Texel on the same day as the Vryheid, took a pilot on board off Margate, and was brought safe into port, without losing a single hand during the storm.
Good night, boys; to-morrow I have a long and interesting tale to tell you about the Mutiny of the Bounty.
Good night, Uncle Thomas!