CHAPTER V. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE KENT EAST INDIAMAN.
Good evening, Uncle Thomas! We were very much interested with the account you gave us of the Mutiny of the Bounty. As we came along we were thinking what a shocking thing it would be for a ship to take fire at sea. Do such misfortunes ever take place, Uncle Thomas?
Yes, boys, they do, though much less frequently than one would expect. The sailors are very careful, and are prohibited from using lights after certain hours. I can tell you about the loss of a large East Indiaman, which caught fire in the Bay of Biscay, and was completely destroyed.
Oh! do let us hear it, Uncle Thomas!
On the 19th February, 1825, the Kent, a fine new vessel, commanded by Captain Henry Cobb, bound for Bengal and China, left the Downs. She had on board a crew of one hundred and forty-eight men, including officers, with twenty military officers, three hundred and forty-four soldiers, forty-three women, and sixty-six children, belonging to the 31st regiment, and twenty private passengers; making in all six hundred and forty-one persons.
The Kent proceeded prosperously on her voyage until the night of the 28th February, when her progress was arrested by a violent gale from the west, which gradually increased during the following morning. So violent was the storm, that at every lurch the main chains of the vessel were considerably under water, and the various articles of furniture were dashed about the cabin with such noise and violence, as to excite the liveliest apprehensions of danger.
The utmost activity of the officers and crew of the Kent was called into exercise, and everything was done in order to secure the safety of the vessel. In the course of his duty, one of the officers went into the hold, accompanied by a couple of sailors, in order to see that all was fast. They carried with them a patent lantern, and seeing that the lamp burned dimly, the officer took the precaution to hand it up to the deck to be trimmed. Having discovered that one of the spirit casks had broken loose from its fastenings, he sent the sailors for some billets of wood to secure it; but the ship in their absence having made a heavy lurch, the officer unfortunately dropped the lamp, and letting go his hold of the cask, in his eagerness to recover the lantern, it suddenly stove, and the spirits communicating with the flame, the whole place was instantly in a blaze.
So long as the flames appeared to be confined to the spot where the fire originated, which was surrounded on all sides by water casks, hopes were entertained that it might be subdued; but no sooner was the light blue vapor, that at first arose, succeeded by volumes of thick dingy smoke, which, speedily ascending through all the four hatchways, rolled over every part of the ship, than almost all hope of saving the vessel was abandoned. "The flames have reached the cable tier!" was exclaimed by some individuals; and the strong pitchy smell that pervaded the deck, soon confirmed the truth of the exclamation.
In these awful circumstances, Captain Cobb, with an ability and decision of character that seemed to increase with the imminence of the danger, resorted to the fearful experiment of ordering the lower decks to be scuttled, and the lower port-holes of the vessel to be opened, for the free admission of the waves.
These orders were speedily executed, but not before several of the unhappy passengers had perished from suffocation. So dense and oppressive was the smoke, that it was with the greatest difficulty any person could remain long enough below deck to execute the captain's wishes, but no sooner were they accomplished, than the sea rushed in with extraordinary force, carrying before it the largest chests, bulk-heads, and other weighty articles. The immense quantity of water thus introduced, had the effect of checking the fury of the flames for a time, but a new source of danger suddenly opened upon them—the ship becoming water-logged, and seemed in danger of going down.
The scene of horror that now presented itself almost baffles description. The upper deck was covered with between 600 and 700 human beings, many of whom, from previous sea-sickness, were forced, on the first alarm, to flee from below, in a state of absolute nakedness, and were now running about in quest of husbands, children or parents. While some were standing in silent resignation, or in stupid insensibility, to their impending fate, others were yielding themselves up to frantic despair. Some on their knees were earnestly imploring the mercy of Him whose arm, they exclaimed, was at length outstretched to smite them; others were to be seen hastily crossing themselves, and performing various external acts required by their particular persuasion; while a number of the older and more stouthearted soldiers and sailors took their seats directly over the powder magazine,—hoping, as they stated, that by means of the explosion which they every instant expected, a speedier termination might be put to their sufferings.
All hope had departed, and the employment of the different individuals indicated an utter despair of rescue. One was to be seen thoughtfully removing a lock of hair from his writing-desk to his bosom, and another officer, procuring paper, addressed a short communication to his father, which he afterwards carefully enclosed in a bottle, in the hope that it might eventually reach its destination, and relieve him from the long years of fruitless anxiety and suspense, which the melancholy fate which hung over him might awaken. At this appalling instant, when all hope of being saved was taken away, it occurred to Mr. Thompson, the fourth mate, to send a man to the fore-top, rather with the ardent wish that some friendly sail might be descried on the face of the waters, than with any expectation that it would be realized. For a moment the sailor who ascended threw his eyes around the horizon—a moment of unutterable suspense—and then, waving his hat, exclaimed, "A sail, on the lee bow!" The joyful announcement was received with heartfelt thanksgivings, and answered by three loud cheers from those on deck; the signals of distress were instantly hoisted, minute-guns fired, and endeavors made, under three topsails and foresail, to bear down upon the stranger, which proved to be the Cambria, a small brig of two hundred tons burthen, commanded by Captain Cook, and bound to Vera Cruz, having on board twenty or thirty Cornish miners, and some agents of the Anglo-Mexican company.
For ten or fifteen agonizing minutes, the crew of the Kent were in doubt whether the brig perceived their signals, or, perceiving them, was either disposed or able to give them any assistance. From the violence of the gale, as they afterwards learned, the report of the guns was not heard, but the ascending volumes of smoke from the ship sufficiently announced the dreadful nature of their distress; and after a short period of the greatest suspense, they saw the brig hoist British colours, and crowd all sail to hasten to their relief.
While the vessel was approaching, arrangements were made for getting out the boats, so as to have all in readiness so soon as she came within a reasonable distance. Before hoisting out the boat, it was filled with the officers' ladies and the female passengers, and as many of the soldiers' wives as it could safely carry. They hurriedly wrapped themselves in whatever articles of clothing they could first lay their hands on; and, at about half past two o'clock, a most mournful procession advanced from the after-cabins to the starboard cuddy-port, from the outside of which the cutter was suspended. Not a sound was heard—not a syllable was uttered—even the infants ceased to cry, as though conscious of the unspoken anguish that was rending the hearts of their parting parents; nor did aught occur to break the solemn stillness of the scene, save in one or two instances, when the ladies plaintively entreated to be left behind with their husbands; but being assured that every moment's delay might occasion the sacrifice of life, they successively suffered themselves to be torn from the tender embrace; and, with a fortitude which never fails to characterize and adorn their sex on occasions of overwhelming trial, were placed, without a murmur, in the boat, which was immediately lowered into so tempestuous a sea, as to leave them only to hope against hope, that it should live in it for a single moment. Twice the cry was heard from those on the chains that the boat was swamping; but He who enabled the apostle Peter to walk on the face of the deep, was graciously attending to the silent, but earnest, aspirations of those on board, and had decreed its safety.
Although every precaution was taken to diminish the danger of the boat's descent—a man having been stationed at each end, with an axe, ready to cut the ropes, in case of any difficulty occurring in unhooking it from the tackle by which it was lowered—yet the extreme difficulty of the operation had nearly proved fatal to the whole of its precious cargo. After one or two unsuccessful attempts had been made to place the little frail bark fairly upon the surface of the water, the command was given to unhook: the stern tackle was immediately cleared, but the ropes at the bow having got foul, the sailors there found it impossible to obey the order. In vain was the axe applied to the entangled tackle. The moment was inconceivably critical, as the boat, necessarily following the motions of the ship, was gradually rising out of the water, and must in another instant have been hanging perpendicularly by the bow, and its helpless passengers precipitated into the sea, had not a wave providentially struck the stern and lifted it up, so as to enable the seamen to clear the tackle; and the boat, being dexterously disentangled from the ship, was soon seen battling with the billows in its progress to the brig—one instant like a speck upon their summit, and then disappearing for several seconds, as if engulfed in the horrid vale between them.
The Cambria having prudently lain at some distance from the Kent, lest she should be involved in her explosion, or exposed to the fire of the guns, which, being all shotted, afterwards went off as they were successively reached by the flames, the boat had a considerable distance to row. The interval of its leaving the Kent, and its arrival at the side of the Cambria, was a time of most intense interest; at length, however, it reached her in safety, and the inmates, one after another, arrived on board.
It being impossible for the boats, after the first trip, to come alongside the Kent, a plan was adopted for lowering the women and children by ropes from the stern, by tying them two-and-two together. But from the heaving of the ship, and the extreme difficulty of dropping them at the instant the boat was underneath, many of the poor creatures were unavoidably plunged repeatedly under water: all the women, from their superior strength, were happily able to endure this rough usage, but, unfortunately, several children fell victims.
Amid the conflicting feelings and dispositions manifested by the numerous actors in this melancholy drama, many affecting proofs were elicited of parental and filial affection, or of disinterested friendship, that seemed to shed a momentary halo around the gloomy scene.
Two or three soldiers, to relieve their wives of a part of their families, sprang into the water with their children, and perished in their endeavors to save them. One young lady, who had resolutely refused to leave her father, whose sense of duty kept him at his post, was very near falling a sacrifice to her filial devotion, not having been picked up by those in the boats until she had sunk five or six times. Another individual, who was reduced to the frightful alternative of losing his wife or his children, hastily decided in favor of his duty to the former: his wife accordingly was saved, and four fine children, alas! left to perish. One fine fellow, a soldier, who had neither wife nor child of his own, but who evinced the greatest solicitude for the safety of those of others, insisted on having three children lashed to him, with whom he plunged into the water; but not being able to reach the boat, he was drawn back again into the ship, yet not before two of the children had expired. One man fell down the hatchway into the flames. But the numerous instances of individual loss and suffering were not confined to the commencement of the perilous voyage between the two vessels: one man, who fell between the boat and the brig, had his head literally crushed; while some were lost in their attempts to ascend the sides of the Cambria.
As the day was drawing to a close, and the flames were now slowly, but perceptibly, extending, the gallant commanders felt increased anxiety for the safety of the remainder of the brave men under their charge.
To facilitate this object a rope was suspended from the extremity of the spanker-boom, which projects from sixteen to eighteen feet over the stern, and, in such a large ship as the Kent, on ordinary occasions rests about nineteen or twenty feet above the water. In order more readily to reach the boats, and to prevent the danger of their being stove by approaching too close to the vessel, the men were directed to proceed along the boom and slide down by the rope. But as from the great swell of the sea, it was impossible for the boats to retain their station for a moment, most of those who adopted this course, were either left for a time swinging in mid-air, or plunged into the sea, and perhaps violently flung against the boat as it once more approached to their rescue.
At length, when nearly every person was removed, and when those only remained whom fear had so overcome as to prevent their availing themselves of the means of escape, even at the urgent request of those in the boats, Captain Cobb quitted the ill-fated vessel, and shortly after the boat in which he was reached the Cambria, the flames, which had spread along the upper deck of the Kent, ascended with the rapidity of lightning to the masts and rigging, forming one general conflagration, and illuminating the heavens to an immense distance, until the masts, one by one successively, fell like stately steeples over the ship's side. At last, about half-past one in the morning, the fire communicated to the powder magazine, the long-threatened explosion took place, and the fragments of the magnificent Kent were instantly hurried, like so many rockets, high into the air.
The Cambria now made all sail to the nearest port, and, though the violence of the gale continued, she arrived at Falmouth shortly after midnight on the 3d of March, when her unfortunate crew were received with the utmost kindness by the inhabitants, and their wants instantly attended to.
Were those that remained on board the Kent all lost, Uncle Thomas?
No, not the whole of them, boys. Wonderful to relate, the flames and the explosion attracted the notice of the crew of another ship, named the Caroline, on her passage from Alexandria to Liverpool, who immediately set their sails and bore down upon the wreck. They were fortunately in time to save twelve persons whom they found floating about on a mast. The captain of the Caroline, with the greatest humanity, remained in the neighborhood all night, in the hope of assisting any who might have taken refuge on other parts of the wreck. In the morning they rescued two more of the unfortunate survivers, being all that they could discover, from the floating masses of wreck. But the sky beginning to assume a stormy aspect, the boat which had been sent out was forced to return to the ship, which once more proceeded on her voyage.
Was rum the cause of this sad disaster, Uncle Thomas?
Yes, my boys, rum did all the mischief.
Then we will have no rum on board of our ship, when we are men, will we, John? for it is of no use, father says.