FOOTNOTES:
[9] 'I well remember,' says a naval surgeon, 'the above melancholy event, and particularly from one of the survivors being drafted on board the ship to which I belonged, (the Thunderer, then in the Dardanelles.) The poor fellow became my patient; he complained of no pain but that which arose from the horrible recollection of his having tasted human flesh to preserve his life. This preyed so deeply on his mind, that it rendered him incapable of performing any duty, and when I saw him sinking under the heavy load, I felt it to be my duty to order him to the hospital, that he might be invalided and sent home.'
THE FLORA.
Early in January, 1807, H.M. ship Flora, of 36 guns, under the command of Captain Otway Bland, had been cruizing off the Texel, for the purpose of reconnoitring the ships of the enemy. This object having been effected, they shaped a course towards Harlingen, the captain ordering the pilots not to run the slightest risk, but to give the sands of the island sufficient berth, so as not to endanger the Flora; and so often did he reiterate these instructions, that the pilots appeared hurt that their nautical skill and knowledge of the track should be doubted. However, to the astonishment of all on board, and to the dismay of the pilots, the ship took the ground, and struck on the Shelling Reef, about noon on the 18th of January. It was only just past high water when she struck, and there was therefore no chance of getting her off till the next tide. In the meantime all weight was removed from aloft, and the topmasts were lowered over the side, to shore her up. Towards evening the wind increased to a gale, and a heavy swell came on, which prevented their getting out a bower anchor, although a raft was made for the purpose; but the night became so dark, and the sea so rough, they were obliged to relinquish the attempt, and resolved to wait with patience for high water, lightening the vessel as much as possible, by starting the water, and heaving most of the shot and other heavy articles overboard. All hands took their turn at the pumps, and worked vigorously; yet the water gained rapidly upon the vessel: this was partly attributable to her having struck amidships, and having a hole through her bottom, instead of her side, to supply the cistern. At about nine o'clock P.M., she began to heave, but as the tide made, the wind freshened, the sea rose, and she brought home the stream anchor, backed by the kedge, and forged on the sand. At half-past nine o'clock, a last effort was made to get her off, by letting go a bower anchor with a spring abaft, which brought her head round. They then made all sail and forced her over the reef. The ship once more floated in deep water: but this object was not attained without a most serious loss. The rudder had been carried away, and with it the launch and the jolly-boat, so that only one anchor and the worst boat were left for service. After those moments of breathless anxiety, and after giving utterance to a short but fervent expression of thankfulness that they had got clear of the reef, the men, almost worn out as they were, by so many hours of continued labour, again betook themselves to the pumps, in hopes of keeping the water under until they could reach an English port. But in spite of every exertion, in spite of continued bailing and pumping, and though a thrumbed sail was under the ship's bottom, the water gained to eight feet. As the danger increased, so did the vigour of the men. All was order, energy, and steady obedience throughout. The captain perceiving that it would be impossible to keep the vessel much longer afloat, gave orders to wear ship, and run her on the enemy's shore; nor could even this be done without much difficulty and danger, as it was necessary to let go their last anchor. Most of the guns were now thrown overboard, and everything done to lighten the ship; and about half-past six A.M., on the 19th, her head was brought round, and, steered by the sails and a cable veered astern, towards the islands. The weather was becoming more gloomy and threatening, and before ten o'clock A.M. the vessel was so terribly shaken, that it became absolutely necessary to cut away the main and mizen masts, leaving the foremast standing, with sail set, to force the ship on as much as possible, and also to prevent her drifting off with the ebb, or with a change of wind. Although the dangerous situation of the Flora was clearly perceived by the people on shore, no boat put out to her assistance, the authorities having forbidden them to render such aid on pain of death.
Captain Bland, during his cruize on these seas, had allowed the fishing-boats of the enemy to range unmolested, and had given strict orders that not a fish should be taken from them without payment; but even these boats now came near the labouring ship and passed on, leaving her and her crew to perish. About four o'clock in the afternoon when she seemed to be sinking, she took the ground and there remained, surrounded by breakers, the crew in vain firing guns, and making other signals of distress, which were totally disregarded. All hands that could be spared from the pumps had been employed in making rafts, and these were now launched into the surf, and about one hundred and thirty of the crew got upon them, and were fortunate enough to gain the high land.
Captain Bland, with a few officers and men, pushed off in the barge, the only boat that was left, and after rowing for eighteen hours without any sustenance, they reached the Island of Amoland, where they were made prisoners.
The rest of the crew, who had chosen to stay by the ship, remained on board for four days and nights, and, excepting nine, who perished from the severity of the weather, they all got safe on shore. The above is a plain, unvarnished account, taken from the narrative of Captain Bland: it is a true tale, and needs not the aid of romance to give it interest. For more than twenty-four hours the crew suffered the horrors of uncertainty; their vessel thrown upon a hostile shore, whose inhabitants were forbidden on pain of death to assist them, whilst of all their boats one only remained. Yet, even during this time of trial and danger, discipline was not for a moment abandoned; no man's heart appeared to fail him; each one performed his duty with cheerfulness and alacrity; and nobly did they all earn the praise bestowed on them by their commander.
'I cannot help paying here,' said Captain Bland, 'the last tribute of praise to my crew; they behaved with order, respect, and perfect coolness to the last moment; nor would they quit the ship's side in the barge, though at the risk of her being dashed to pieces, till I took the place they had reserved for me.'
The gallantry and seamanship displayed by Captain Otway Bland, when in command of the Espoir, 14-gun brig, in his attack and subsequent capture of a Genoese pirate, well deserve a place in these pages.
On the 7th of August, 1798, the Espoir was sailing near Gibraltar in charge of part of a convoy, when a large vessel, which appeared to be a man-of-war, was seen steering apparently with the intention of cutting off some of the convoy. Captain Bland, notwithstanding the superiority of the force with which he had to contend, determined upon attacking the stranger, which proved to be the Liguria, mounted with 26 guns of various calibres.
On approaching within hail, an officer on board the Liguria ordered the commander of the Espoir to surrender, or he would sink his ship, enforcing the demand by one shot, and afterwards by a whole broadside. The fire was returned in a spirited manner by the Espoir, and was kept up on both sides by the great guns and musketry for upwards of three hours, when the captain of the Liguria hailed the Espoir, begging her captain not to fire any more, as he was a Genoese. Upon this, Captain Bland desired him to lower his sails, and come on board. As no attention was paid to this demand, and the Genoese appeared to be attempting some manoeuvre, the Espoir poured in another broadside, which the Liguria returned; but on the Espoir tacking to fire her opposite broadside, her opponent surrendered.
The crew of the Liguria consisted, of one hundred and twenty men of all nations, whilst that of the Espoir was but eighty men, of which the master was killed, and six men wounded.
Captain Bland died in 1810.
THE AJAX.
On the evening of the 14th of February, 1807, H.M. ship Ajax, 74 guns, commanded by Captain the Hon. Sir Henry Blackwood, lay at anchor off the mouth of the Dardanelles, in company with the squadron of Vice-Admiral Sir John Duckworth. The wind, which during the day had been boisterous, was partially lulled, and in the clear moonlight every object was visible with a distinctness almost equal to that of day.
The scene from the deck of the Ajax was one of surpassing beauty and interest. The bright moonbeams rested on the waters, and left a silvery track upon the waves. Ahead and astern, the lofty masts of the squadron tapered darkly towards the sky, whilst the outline of every rope and spar was sharply defined against the clear blue vault of heaven. Every man in the ship, from the commander to the youngest boy, could feel and understand this natural beauty; but there were many on board the squadron who had still higher enjoyment, as they gazed on those isles and shores which recalled the classic verse of Homer and of Virgil. For them every island, cape, river, and mountain was fraught with interest. There lay Tenedos, renowned of old; there the mountain isle of Imbros stood out in bold relief from the snow-clad summits of Samothracia. In the distance appeared Mount Ida, and at its foot lay stretched the plains of Troy, o'er which the 'gulfy Simois' wanders still as it did of old. There is Cape Sigæum, and on it the tomb of Patroclus, round which Achilles dragged the godlike Hector's corpse; there, too, the ashes of Achilles repose near those of his friend; and a little further north, on the Rhoetian promontory, is the tomb of 'mighty Ajax.' Homer, Euripides, and Virgil have, it is true, a very small share in the studies of a youthful sailor, as they do not form an essential ingredient of a nautical education; but an English gentleman, although his head be crammed with mathematics and equations, always contrives to pick up enough of classic lore to enable him thoroughly to enjoy such a scene as that we have attempted to describe. He is much to be pitied who cannot appreciate such enjoyment; but in these days, when the schoolmaster is aboard, and when, by the wise liberality of the Government, our ships are furnished with useful and interesting books, none need of necessity be deprived of the exquisite pleasure which is to be derived from visiting scenes which have been 'dignified either by wisdom, bravery, or virtue.' We are constantly reminded that 'knowledge is power;' but it might be well to impress upon youngsters, that 'knowledge is enjoyment.' There is, indeed, no acquirement in literature or science that will not at some time or other be productive of real pleasure.
We have lingered on this subject longer than we should have done, for we must now relate how soon the tranquillity of that fair scene was disturbed—how for a time another light, redder and fiercer than that of the moon, shone on the blue waters of the Hellespont.
Soon after nine o'clock P.M., Captain Blackwood had received from his first lieutenant the report of the safety of the Ajax, and all, except the officers and men who were on duty, had retired to their berths. A very short time, however, had elapsed, before the stillness of the night was broken by the appalling cry of 'Fire!' It must be a fearful sound to hear—the cry of 'Fire!' as awful as the voice of him who
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him half his Troy was burned.
The officer of the watch instantly informed Captain Blackwood of the alarm. He hastened upon deck, and found too surely that flames were bursting from the after-part. He gave orders to beat to quarters—to fire the guns as signals of distress, and directed Lieutenant Wood and a midshipman to proceed in one of the boats to all the ships of the squadron to request assistance.
These orders were promptly given, and promptly obeyed; but who can enter fully into the feelings of Captain Blackwood at that awfully critical moment. Here was his ship and six hundred men threatened with immediate destruction, and each one of that six hundred looked to him for direction and guidance.
In order to inspire others with courage and confidence, he must display decision in every look and gesture. Whatever others might do, his lip must not tremble, nor his eyelid quiver—no look of apprehension must be seen on his brow. He must stand forth calm and undaunted—the recollection of tender ties and loving hearts might wring his soul with agony, but these thoughts must be banished; the safety of six hundred human beings depended, under God, on his firmness and exertion, and every eye was directed to him in anxious inquiry. When the ship's company had turned out, every man took his station calmly and in obedience to orders.
The captain, followed by several of his officers, went down to the cockpit, from whence issued clouds of smoke. Every effort was made to extinguish the flames in that part of the ship, but they increased so rapidly, it soon became impossible for any one to remain below. Several of the men who were throwing down water fell from suffocation with the buckets in their hands. To give more air to the men so employed, the lower-deck ports were hauled up; but this rather increasing than diminishing the density of the smoke, they were closed again, and the after-hatchway shut down. The carpenter's attempt to scuttle the after-part of the ship was also ineffectual.
Ten or fifteen minutes only had elapsed after the first alarm had been given, before the flames raged with such fury, that it was impossible to hoist out the boats; the jolly-boat had fortunately been lowered in obedience to the captain's orders when he first went upon deck. As the flames burst up the main-hatchway, dividing the fore from the after-part of the ship, the captain ordered all hands to the forecastle, and seeing that it was utterly beyond human power to prevent the destruction of the vessel, he desired every man to provide for his own safety.
The silent plague through the green timber eats,
And vomits out a tardy flame by fits;
Down to the keels, and upwards to the sails,
The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails;
Nor buckets pour'd, nor strength of human hand,
Can the victorious element withstand.
DRYDEN'S Æneid, Book V.
The luckless ship was now wrapped in flames from amidships to taffrail, and the scene of horror is beyond the powers of description. Hundreds of human beings were assembled together on the forecastle, bowsprit, and sprit-sail-yard. No boat had yet come to their assistance. Their perilous situation had levelled all distinction of rank; men and officers were huddled together, watching with despairing hearts the progress of the fiery element, which threatened to hurry them so quickly into eternity. Volumes of black smoke rose in huge pillars from all parts of the ship, whilst far above the hissing and crackling of the flames, as they ricked the masts and rigging, rose the shrieks and death yells of the hapless men, who, unable to gain the forecastle, had sought safety aloft, where the flames had now reached them.
Some, rather than endure the horrible suspense, trusted themselves to the mercy of the waves, and by plunging overboard, ended their lives and sufferings in a watery grave. Many, in their agony, fell on their knees, imploring God for that help which they despaired of receiving from mortal agency. Perhaps these men would not have thought of prayer to heaven in face of a human foe, but now that the 'last enemy' glared upon them in so fearful a shape, they felt compelled to fly to Him who hath said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble.'
The booming of the guns, as they exploded, echoed far and wide over the waters, and added to the horrors of that awful night.
In the midst of his people stood the captain, endeavouring to sustain their sinking spirits, and exhorting them to be firm and to depend upon the boats which were now heaving in sight. He then bade them farewell, and sprung into the sea; he breasted the waves for a length of time, but his strength was nearly exhausted, when, happily, he was seen, and picked up by one of the boats of the Canopus.
As the boats from the squadron neared the Ajax, the agonizing fears of the sufferers were changed into wild transports of joy; so sudden was the transition from despair to hope, that many of the crew lost all self-possession, and perished by jumping into the sea in their impatience to reach the boats.
Such details as these, showing the effects of fear upon untutored minds, make us thankful that a great change for the better has been effected within the last forty years with respect to the religious and moral instruction of our sailors.
Every ship's company is exposed to casualties similar to that which befel the crew of the Ajax,—to shipwreck, fire, and sudden destruction,—and no man will deny that in times of extreme peril, a calm and composed mind is the greatest of blessings—the want of it, the greatest misery. Few will be sceptical enough to deny, on the other hand, that the best security for such composure, in a moment of unforeseen danger, or of unlooked-for deliverance, is a firm and sure trust that there is a God above, who 'ruleth over all;' whom the winds and the sea obey, and who is 'mighty to save,' even in the hour of man's direst extremity. To instil this knowledge and trust into the hearts of our seamen, and by it to make them both better men, and better sailors, should be the chief object of every improvement in education.
Lieut. Willoughby, of the St. George, had hastened in a cutter to assist the crew of the Ajax, and he very soon rescued as many men as his boat could carry. Numbers, however, were still surrounding him, who, for the safety of those in the already overladen boat, were, with much reluctance, left to their fate. Fortunately some launches and a barge arrived in time to pick them up, and convey them to the different ships of the squadron.
The Ajax all this time was drifting towards the island of Tenedos, with her stern and broadside alternately presented to the wind. The humane exertions of Lieutenant Willoughby had been twice crowned with success; his boat was, for the third time, nearly filled with people, when he observed the Ajax round to, and that several men were hanging by ropes under her head. He resolved, at all hazards, to rescue these poor fellows before she again fell off. Dashing, therefore, towards her, he succeeded in the first part of his object, but not until the vessel was again before the wind, flames issuing from every part of both hull and rigging, and with the cutter across her hawse.
To extricate himself from this perilous situation was almost impossible, for every moment increased the speed with which the Ajax was surging through the water, and the sea thrown up from her bows threatened his small boat with instant destruction.
We will now take up the account as given by Marshall, in his Naval Biograghy:[10]
'Whilst the Ajax was propelling the cutter in the above alarming manner, the flames reached the shank, painter, and stopper, of her remaining bower anchor, and it fell from her bows, nearly effecting the destruction of the boat at its first plunge into the water. The cable caught her outer gunwale, over which it ran, apparently one sheet of fire; orders, exertion, and presence of mind were now of no avail. Death to all in the cutter appeared inevitable. The sole alternative was either to be burned or drowned, for they were all too much exhausted to be able to save themselves by swimming.
'The boats at a distance saw that the cutter was enveloped in flames, and therefore considered it impossible to assist her. All that Lieutenant Willoughby and his companions could do while the cable was running out and binding their boat more firmly to the ship, was to keep the sparks and flames as much as possible from the uncovered parts of their persons. Providentially, however, although the inner portion of the cable had been burnt through, the anchor took the ground, and gave the ship's head a check to windward, before the less consumed part had entirely left the tier; and thus the very event which had seemed to seal the doom of the cutter was in all respects ordained by the Almighty for her preservation. The change in the ship's position enabled the boat to get clear, but not before every individual in her was more or less severely scorched, and the heat was no longer endurable.'
The wreck drifted on shore on the north side of the island of Tenedos, where, at five o'clock in the morning, she blew up with an explosion which might be felt on the adjacent shores of Europe and of Asia; and all that remained of the Ajax were a few smoking spars, which rose to the surface of the sea.
Such was the fate of this noble ship, destroyed by a conflagration more rapid than had ever been known, and of which the cause has never been clearly ascertained. It appears, however, certain that, contrary to orders, there had been a light in the bread-room; for when the first lieutenant broke open the door of the surgeon's cabin, the after bulk-head was already burnt down; and as the purser's steward, his assistant, and the cooper, were among the missing, it is but reasonable to suppose that the fire had been occasioned by their negligence.
'I trust,' says Captain Blackwood, in his defence before the court of inquiry, 'that I shall be able to prove to the satisfaction of this court, that I had instituted a regulation, which obliged the first lieutenant, the warrant officers, and master at arms, in a body to visit all the quarters, store-rooms, wings, &c, and report to me at eight o'clock on their clearness and safety; and that I had also received at nine o'clock the report of the marine officer of the guard.'.... 'I trust this court will consider that in ordering the first lieutenant and warrant officers to visit all parts of the ship, whose report, as well as that of the master at arms, I had received at a few minutes past eight o'clock, I had very fully provided for every want, and might with perfect confidence have considered my ship in a state of perfect safety with respect to fire.'
Captain Blackwood, his surviving officers and men, were all most honourably acquitted of any blame respecting the loss of the Ajax.
Out of six hundred men, three hundred and fifty were saved by the boats of the squadron; but two hundred and fifty perished that night by fire or water.
Amongst the lost were Lieutenants Reeve and Sibthorpe; Captain Boyd, Royal Marines; Mr. Owen, surgeon; Mr. Donaldson, master; twenty-five midshipmen; two merchants of Constantinople, and a Greek pilot.
The melancholy fate of the gunner must not be passed over unnoticed.
This poor man had two sons on board, whom he was bringing up to his own profession.
When the first alarm of fire was given, he had rushed below, and was soon seen emerging from the smoke with one of the boys in his arms.
He threw the lad into the sea and the jolly-boat picked him up; but on going down for the other, the unfortunate father fell a victim to his paternal affection, and either perished in the flames, or was suffocated.
Of three women who were on board, one saved herself by following her husband down a rope from the jib-boom, and was received into a boat.
Captain Blackwood served as a volunteer in the subsequent operations of the squadron in forcing the passage of the Dardanelles, and his services then were most highly spoken of in a letter from Sir J. Duckworth to Lord Collingwood. He had distinguished himself on many previous occasions. He was in the memorable action of 1st of June, 1794; and he commanded the Euryalus at the battle of Trafalgar.
When Sir Henry Blackwood bade farewell to Nelson, on leaving the Victory to repair on board his own ship, before the commencement of the action, Lord Nelson said, with prophetic meaning, 'God bless you, Blackwood; I shall never see you again.'
In 1810, he commanded the inshore squadron off Toulon, and for his gallant conduct on that station he received the thanks of the commander-in-chief, Sir Charles Cotton.
In 1814, Captain Blackwood was advanced to the rank of rear-admiral, and in 1819 he was appointed commander-in-chief in the East Indies.
He died a vice-admiral in 1832, and his name is enrolled among the first class of naval heroes who have fought under the British flag.
The memory of Blackwood is still held in veneration by the old weather-beaten tars of the Nelsonian school.
Lieutenant Willoughby, whom we have seen displaying so much gallantry in his efforts to save the crew of the Ajax, entered the service in the year 1790.
Before big promotion to the rank of lieutenant, in the year 1798, he distinguished himself on more than one occasion by that promptitude of action for which his after career was so remarkable.
In 1801, he served on board the Russel, at the battle of Copenhagen. The gallant manner in which he boarded the Provestein block ship, excited so much admiration, that the Russel's crew gave him three cheers upon his return to the ship. We next find this young officer performing a most important service when the French forces capitulated at Cape François, St. Domingo, in 1803.
He was at this period serving on board the Hercule, flag-ship to Sir John Duckworth. According to the terms agreed upon, the French men-of-war were to keep their colours hoisted until they got outside of the harbour, when they were each to discharge a broadside in return to a shot fired athwart their bows, by one of the British ships, and then to make the usual signals of submission.
The Clorinde frigate, in going out of the harbour, grounded under Fort St. Joseph, at the moment when the launch of the Hercule, commanded by Mr. Willoughby, was entering the harbour. When Mr. Willoughby saw the critical position of the Clorinde, and the danger which menaced all on board of her (for he knew that even if they succeeded in gaining the shore, which was doubtful, no quarter would be given them by the blacks), he pulled towards the frigate, and when he came alongside, he proposed terms to General La Poyne (who was on board of her) by which the safety of the crew would be secured.
Mr. Willoughby promised, that if the frigate would hoist English colours, he (Mr. Willoughby) would wait upon General Dessalines, and demand that the British flag should be respected; and in the event of the Clorinde going to pieces during the night, the crew and passengers should be considered prisoners of war.
General La Poyne readily accepted the proposed terms, and accordingly, Mr. Willoughby proceeded to negotiate with General Dessalines, who promised compliance with his request.
The boats of the Hercule were sent to the assistance of the Clorinde, and they succeeded in heaving her off.
Thus by the timely exertions of this zealous young officer, some hundreds of lives were saved, and the British navy obtained a frigate which, for many years, was one of the finest of the 38-gun class.
At the attack on Curaçoa, in 1804, Mr. James relates, that for the sake of encouraging his men, Mr. Willoughby used to take his meals sitting in a chair upon the breast-work of a battery, while the earth was ploughed up all around; and one man, we believe, was killed on the spot; but still the table and chair, and the daring officer who sat there, remained untouched.
In the following year, the Hercule had captured a merchant schooner, and one of the prisoners gave notice that a Spanish corvette of twenty guns, was lying in St. Martha, South America. Mr. Willoughby thereupon volunteered to attack her; and on the 4th of July, he took the command of the prize, and parted company with his ship, accompanied by three midshipmen and thirty volunteers. On the 6th, they entered the harbour of St. Martha; Captain Samuel Roberts, then a midshipman, was at the helm, with a check shirt on, his head covered with a French kerchief, and his face blackened. The rest of the men were below, except a black, and a mulatto.
The schooner being well known, the deception was perfectly successful, and she passed the batteries without interruption; but, to the disappointment of all on board, no corvette was to be found.
Mortified in the extreme, they put about, but not in time to escape detection. The enemy had found out the trick that had been played upon them; and the batteries from the island and harbour opened upon the schooner a volley of no very gentle reproaches. However, she luckily avoided the danger, and returned in safety to the Hercule, without receiving a single shot.
In 1807, Mr. Willoughby was appointed to the Royal George. We have already alluded to his humane exertions to save the crew of the Ajax, while the squadron was off the Dardanelles. He soon afterwards received a severe wound whilst he was taking more thought for others' safety than for his own. Upon the return of the squadron from Constantinople, an attack was made upon a large building on the island of Prota.
Lieutenant Willoughby perceiving that three men were very much exposed to the enemy's fire, called out to them, desiring them to stoop. At that moment, he was himself struck by two pistol balls; one entered his head, just above the right jaw, and took a slanting direction upwards—and has never been extracted; the other shot cut his left cheek in two; For some minutes he lay apparently lifeless, but fortunately the movement of an arm indicated enough of life to awaken hope in his companions; and they carried him on board the Royal George.
In 1808, he was promoted to the rank of commander, and appointed to the Otter sloop, then employed in cruizing off the Isle of France. Here he distinguished himself in cutting out some vessels under the protection of the batteries of the Black River; and for his services at the capture of St. Paul, he was appointed to the Xereide.
In 1810, he made an attack upon Jacotel: he thought this a somewhat dangerous enterprise; and, therefore, to inspire his men with more than usual courage and ardour, he headed them himself, in full uniform. After a desperate resistance on the part of the enemy, he succeeded in spiking the guns of the fort, and taking prisoner the commanding officer. For this service he was promoted to the rank of captain.
In the course of the same year, 1810, a musket burst in the hands of one of the men, so near to the place where Captain Willoughby stood, that his jaw was fractured, and the windpipe laid bare, so that his life was despaired of.
He had hardly recovered from this wound, before he was engaged in an attack upon Port Louis, Isle de France. The disasters which befel the squadron upon this occasion have now become a matter of history, and they need not be recounted here,—suffice it to say, that Captain Willoughby continued to keep up an unequal conflict until nearly all on board the Nereide were either killed or wounded. Nor did he surrender, although he had entirely lost one of his eyes, and the other was much injured, 'until (to use the words of Vice-Admiral Bertie) after a glorious resistance, almost unparalleled even in the brilliant annals of the British navy,'
Upon his return to England, Captain Willoughby had a pension of 550l. per annum awarded to him in consideration of his wounds.
Having no immediate prospect of employment at home, he repaired to St. Petersburg, and offered his services to the Czar.
In his very first engagement in his new career, Captain Willoughby was taken prisoner by the French.—falling a victim to his own generosity. During the action, he saw two Prussian soldiers severely wounded,—dismounting himself, and desiring his servant to do the same, he placed the wounded men upon his own horses, and attended them on foot. They were quickly overtaken by some French cavalry, and Captain Willoughby was made prisoner. He was soon afterwards informed that if he would sign a paper, pledging himself to hasten to France by a certain route, he would be allowed to travel alone.
He gladly consented to this; but to his astonishment, after signing the required paper, he was ordered to march with the other prisoners. In vain he protested against this breach of faith—he was obliged to proceed. His sufferings from cold and hunger whilst crossing the deserts of Russia and Poland were intense. After witnessing the heartrending scenes of Moscow, he at length reached Mayence. Thence he was removed to Metz, and he had scarcely reached the town, before an order came for his confinement in the Chateau of Bouillon, where he remained a close prisoner for nine months. He was then taken to Peronne, and there he continued until the arrival of the Allies at Chalons, when he contrived to make his escape.
Soon after his arrival in England, Captain Willoughby received the Order of the Bath,—an honour scarcely commensurate with the many and valuable services he had performed for his country. It may safely be asserted that no officer living has been engaged in so many hard-fought actions, or has received so many dangerous wounds. From his first entrance into the service, to the end of the late war, all his energies were devoted to the service of his country; and now that his services are no longer required, with a constitution shattered by age and wounds, he is employing the remainder of his days in deeds of charity and kindness towards his fellow-creatures.
Captain Willoughby became admiral in 1847, and since the foregoing pages were written, death has closed his eventful life.