CHAPTER IX. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE STEAMERS KILLARNEY AND FORFARSHIRE.
Good evening, boys! The sudden and unexpected disappearance of the Royal George, though, from the size of the vessel, and the number of lives which were lost on the occasion, an event sufficiently appalling, is yet frequently outdone, in intensity of suffering, by cases of shipwreck which happen on our coasts. To-night, I am going to tell you about the loss of two steam vessels, both of which afford remarkable instances of extreme suffering.
The first is that of the Killarney, a small steamer of about two hundred tons burthen, which sailed between Cork and Bristol. She left the quay at Cork, on the morning of Friday, January 19, 1838, having on board twenty-one passengers, and twenty-two persons belonging to the vessel. Her cargo consisted of about one hundred tons of goods, and six hundred and fifty pigs, part of which were in the fore hold, and the rest on deck.
Soon after she had left the harbor she encountered a gale, and the number of pigs causing her to dip considerably, she shipped several seas, which alarmed the passengers so much, that they prevailed on the captain to put back.
In the evening, the wind having somewhat moderated, the captain, contrary to the wishes of the passengers, resumed his voyage. The vessel had, however, scarcely left the harbor, when the wind again rose, and kept increasing till it blew a gale. This continued until midnight, the vessel rolling dreadfully, and every wave that struck her causing her to dip so deeply, that she shipped several seas. A great quantity of water poured down into the fore hold, the hatches having been left open in order to admit the air to the pigs which were confined in it.
As matters began to wear a threatening aspect, the captain requested that every person on board would assist in throwing overboard the pigs which were on deck, which crowded to the lee-side of the vessel so as almost to render her unmanageable. They found this, however, a matter of great difficulty, and were able thus to dispose of a very small number only.
The sea, in the meantime, continued to wash over the deck, and to pour into the hold. Up to four o'clock, on Saturday morning, they managed, by means of pumps which were worked by the engine, to get rid of this water; but about that hour some small coal got into the pumps and choked them. The water then rose rapidly, until it reached the level of the engine-fire, when it rushed in, and at once extinguished it. The engine no longer moved, and all was given up for lost.
After a few minutes of abandonment to despair, the sailors, and part of the passengers, seizing buckets, began to endeavor to lighten the vessel of some of the water in the hold, and after several hours of hard labor, they so far gained upon it as to enable them once more to light the fire, and to get the steam partly up again. They were at this time utterly ignorant of where they were, or whither they were going, for the fog was so dense that no object was visible. They endeavored to keep the vessel's head to the wind, but, after some time, they found they were going to leeward. The jibsail was then set, in order to keep her steady, but no sooner was it run out than it was blown into ribbons. About three o'clock the fog cleared away, and they saw land behind them, but no one could tell with certainty what part of the coast it was. It was then blowing a complete hurricane; the shore was covered with rocks, and they saw that, if they drifted towards it, destruction was inevitable. By the captain's orders, the mainsail was set, and the engine-men were directed to do their utmost to get up the steam, in order to keep her off. The steam, unfortunately, was so weak as to be of no assistance—it scarcely moved the crank; and the sail had to be hauled down, lest it should throw the vessel on her beam ends. The staysail was then tried, in the hope that it would enable them to round the point; but the storm was so violent that they could not haul it out.
The vessel was in the meantime drifting nearer to the rock on which she ultimately struck. After great exertions they succeeded in turning her round, to endeavor to make for a bay which promised a place of safety. Just as they had succeeded in getting her before the wind, she was, however, pooped by a tremendous sea, which carried away the taffrail, the wheel, and the two men who worked it, the companion, the binnacle, and the breakwater. The men fortunately caught part of the rigging, and were saved; but the sea carried away the bulwarks, with some of the steerage passengers who were standing near the funnel, and at once cleared the deck of all the pigs.
When the vessel was nearing the rock, and before she put about, the steward went down to call the cabin passengers on deck. They were on their way up when the sea passed over the vessel. A second wave succeeded almost immediately, and scarcely had two of them stepped on the quarter-deck when they were hurried overboard. These two seas had the effect of bringing the head of the vessel somewhat to windward again, when a third wave rapidly succeeded, and drove her on the rock. It was then between four and five o'clock. The first stroke she gave, the carpenter jumped on the rock; he was followed by one of the passengers, but the landing-place was so narrow that there was not room for both, and the latter fell into the water and was drowned. After striking, the vessel receded; she soon struck again, and continued receding and striking for some time, during which some of the sailors, the first mate, and the captain landed. When the latter got on the rock, a rope was thrown to him and the mate, that they might endeavor to keep the vessel to the rock. Most of the sailors and some of the passengers were saved in this way, one only landing at a time.
Before leaving the vessel, the steward scrambled along the deck to look for Mrs. Lawe, one of the passengers, who had distinguished herself by her calmness, and the firm reliance she placed on a protecting Providence. He found her near the funnel, calm and collected; with some difficulty he brought her to the quarter-gallery, and loosing the rope, he handed it to her, directing her to take hold of it, and, when the vessel next struck, to leap into the sea, and they would drag her to the rock. She did so, and was drawn up part of the way, but having quitted her hold of the rope, she was carried away by the receding wave, and never seen again. The steward leaped almost at the same moment, and was saved. The last persons who left the vessel were a sailor and a woman—the latter supposed to be the stewardess. She appeared to be insensible; and the sailor, who seemed to have brought her from the cabin, had her in his arms. He leaped from the vessel, and reached the rock, the woman under one arm; but the footing was narrow, and the rock was shelving. He had room for little more than his toes, and was obliged to endeavor to hold on with the fingers of one hand, but the weight of the woman inclining him backwards, they fell into the sea, and both were drowned.
The manner in which some of the lives were lost was peculiarly affecting. A medical gentleman, one of the passengers, had his little son in his arms, soothing and supporting him, and when the vessel struck, he flung him with all his strength towards the rock. The child reached it in safety, though the violence of the effort nearly carried the father overboard. When the latter gained the rock, he again took him in his arms, and, by clasping him closely, endeavored to keep him warm. "Kiss me, papa," said the little fellow, "we shall soon meet no more." The child was right. In a few minutes he got on his feet, ventured a short distance from his father's side, and slipping from the rock, was at once swallowed up by the raging deep.
As soon as the steward loosed the rope to give it to Mrs. Lawe, the vessel having nothing to confine her, swung round, and the next sea that struck her drove her against the rock; her deck opened, she divided into two, fore and aft, and every one who remained on board perished. In an hour after, with the exception of the engine and the paddle-wheel, not a vestige of the vessel or of her machinery was visible.
There were now about twenty-five persons on the rock. The sailors had contrived to clamber to a sheltered side, but the situation of the passengers was pitiable in the extreme. One who had on but a shirt and waistcoat, was seated astride on a projection of the rock, his face towards the sea. Under him was another, his back to the sea, his toes resting on a narrow ledge, and his fingers clinging in a crevice; while close beside them were others equally exposed and equally helpless.
The persons on the side next the land observing some country people—about eighteen or twenty—on the shore, shouted to them, hoping to attract their attention, but there was no answer. The probability is, that the sound never reached the land, as they saw the people subsequently descend and carry off some of the pigs that had been washed ashore. Night came on. About eleven o'clock the wind rose and blew terrifically, but, even amid the raging of the storm, a startling shriek was now and then heard, as one after another, unable longer to maintain their hold, fell into the sea.
When morning broke, the survivers clambered to the sheltered side of the rock. As they had now been discovered by the people on shore, great exertions were made to relieve them; but, as the storm continued unabated, it was found impossible to reach the rock. Ducks with ropes fastened to them were sent out; only one arrived, and that they were unable to catch. Wire was attached to bullets, and rope to the wire, and sundry shots were fired; but this means also was unsuccessful.
The whole of Sunday was spent in a variety of experiments to convey a rope to the rock, without success. The feelings of the sufferers it would be impossible to describe, and their agony, when they saw the attempt to rescue them abandoned—when darkness settled down upon the deep, and they could no longer distinguish the figures of the persons on the cliff above them, it would not be easy to imagine. Their sole sustenance, during the two tedious days and nights which they had passed since the wreck, was a little salt water and the few scraps of seaweed that they could gather from one of the bleakest and most barren rocks on the coast. The night, however, was not so tempestuous as the preceding, and at daylight the shore was once more crowded by persons, all anxious to lend their assistance.
On Monday morning, Captain Manby's life-preserving apparatus was brought to their assistance, but the same difficulty was experienced in reaching the rock with the rope. Shots were again fired from guns and small cannon brought for the purpose, but without success. At length, a plan, which had been unsuccessful on the preceding day, succeeded, and about eleven o'clock two loaves of bread, and a little wine and spirits, were lowered to them—the first they had partaken of since Friday. After refreshing themselves, they were hauled up, one by one. Of the forty-three persons who embarked on Friday morning, thirteen only escaped, and of these one died soon after their rescue.
Dreadful, Uncle Thomas! I wonder they were not all starved to death, exposed as they were to the cold of two January nights.
It was indeed surprising, Harry, that any of them escaped. Some of them were nearly destitute of clothing. I told you of one of the passengers who was all but naked, and the woman who escaped passed the time on the rock with only her night-dress and a small handkerchief to cover her.
The other wreck, of which I promised to tell you this evening, is that of the Forfarshire, also a steamer, which sailed between Hull and Dundee. She left Hull on the evening of Wednesday, September 5th, 1838, having on board a valuable cargo, and upwards of forty passengers. Her crew consisted of twenty-one persons; the captain's wife accompanied him on the voyage.
The Forfarshire had not proceeded far when a leak was discovered in the boiler. This rendered it necessary to extinguish two of the fires, which were, however, relighted when the boiler had been partially repaired. The vessel continued her course until the following evening, by which time she had proceeded as far as Berwick Bay, when the leak again appeared. It had now become so great, that the greatest difficulty was experienced in keeping the boilers filled, the water escaping through the leak as fast as it was pumped in. The wind was blowing strong and the sea running high, and the leak increased so much from the motion of the vessel, that the fires were extinguished, and the engines, of course, became entirely useless. It was now about ten o'clock at night, and they were off St. Abbs' Head, a bold promontory on the Scottish coast. There being great danger of drifting ashore, the sails were hoisted fore and aft, and the vessel put about in order to get her before the wind, and keep her off the land. She soon became unmanageable, and the tide setting strong to the south, she proceeded in that direction. It rained heavily during the whole time, and the fog was so dense that it became impossible to tell the situation of the vessel. At length breakers were discovered close to leeward, and the Ferne Lights, which about the same period became visible, put an end to all doubt as to the imminent peril of the unfortunate vessel. An attempt was made to run her between the Ferne Islands, but she refused to obey the helm, and at three o'clock on Friday morning, she struck with tremendous force against the outer or Longstone Island.
At the moment the vessel struck, most of the passengers were below, and many of them asleep in their berths. One, alarmed by the shock, started up, and seizing his trousers only, rushed upon deck. When he reached it, he found everything in confusion, and seeing part of the crew hoisting out a boat, he sprang into it. The raging of the sea instantly separated it from the vessel, and though several of the other passengers attempted to reach it, they were unsuccessful, and perished in the attempt. The boat itself escaped by something little short of a miracle. There was but one outlet by which it could avoid being dashed in pieces on the breakers by which it was surrounded. This outlet it providentially took without its crew being aware of it; and after being exposed to the storm all night, it was picked up by a sloop and carried into Shields.
In less than five minutes after the vessel struck, a second shock separated her into two parts—the stern, quarter-deck, and cabin being instantly borne away, through a passage called the Piper Gut, by a tremendous current, which runs with considerable violence even in temperate weather—with a rapidity of about six miles an hour—but which, when the weather is tempestuous, flows with a force truly terrific.
The fore part of the vessel, in the meantime, remained fast on the rock, and to it still clung the few passengers who remained, every instant expecting to share the fate of their unfortunate companions, whom they had seen swept away by the raging element. In this dreadful situation their cries attracted the notice of Grace Darling, the daughter of the keeper of the Outer Ferne Lighthouse. With a noble heroism, she immediately determined to attempt their rescue, in spite of the raging of the storm, and the all but certain destruction which threatened to attend it.
Having hastily awakened her father, he launched his boat at day-break, and, with a generous sympathy worthy of the father of Grace Darling, prepared to proceed to their rescue. The gale, in the meantime, continued unabated, and the boiling of the waves threatened a speedy destruction to their frail boat. It was therefore with a heart full of the most fearful forebodings, that he undertook the perilous enterprise. After watching the wreck for some time, they discovered that living beings were still clinging to it, and the gallant young woman, with matchless intrepidity, seized an oar and entered the boat. This was enough—her father followed; and, with the assistance of his daughter, conducted the frail skiff over the foaming billows to the spot where the wreck appeared. By a dangerous and desperate effort he was landed on the rock, and to preserve the frail boat from being dashed to pieces, it was rapidly rowed back among the awful abyss of waters, and kept afloat by the skilfulness and dexterity of this noble-minded young woman. At length the whole of the survivers, consisting of five of the crew and four of the passengers, were taken from the wreck, and conveyed to the light-house, where she ministered to their wants, and anxiously, for three days and three nights, waited on the sufferers, and soothed their afflictions. This perilous achievement, unexampled in the feats of female fortitude, was witnessed by the survivers in silent wonder. The weather continued so tempestuous that the mainland could not be reached till Sunday, when the nine persons, saved by the gallant heroism of the Darlings, were landed in safety; thus making the entire number of persons saved from the wreck eighteen. All the others perished.
Those who found refuge on the rock on which the vessel struck, suffered severely during the night from the cold and the heavy seas which, at intervals, washed over them. The female passenger, who escaped, sat with her two children, a boy and a girl, the one eight and the other eleven years of age, firmly grasped in each hand, long after the buffetings of the waves had deprived them of existence. The captain and his wife were washed from the wreck, clasped in each other's arms, and both drowned.
It was indeed a noble act, Uncle Thomas! I wonder she was not afraid that her boat would share the fate of the steam-vessel, and be dashed in pieces on the rock.
It was an act of heroism, boys, to which you will find few parallels; nor has it been without its reward. Besides the satisfaction of saving nine fellow-creatures from certain destruction, the fame of the heroic act has spread far and wide, and its praise been on every tongue. Painters, of no mean power, have portrayed the scene, and its memory will be thus preserved. Presents have besides poured in upon her and her father, and everything been done to mark the public sympathy and approbation of the daring and disinterested deed.
A coroner's inquest was held on the bodies of four of the sufferers, which were washed ashore. The jury returned a verdict "Wrecked on board the Forfarshire steam-packet, by the imperfection of her boilers, and the culpable negligence of the captain in not putting back to port."
Was the vessel completely destroyed, Uncle Thomas?
The only part of the vessel which remained, Harry, consisted of the forecastle, part of the engine, the paddle-wheels, and part of the rigging. One of the boilers was thrown upon the rock, the other disappeared in the sea. Of the valuable cargo, a few boxes of soap only were recovered.