The Book of the Ocean

by Ernest Ingersoll

Two attempts to lower boats were failures and every man crowded to the forecastle. A line was thrown, double hawsers were soon made fast from the vessel to the shore, and the natives and others gathered around the lines, where the voices of officers shouting to the men on deck were mingled with the loud cries and singing of the Samoans. One by one, and in a very orderly manner, the men of the Nipsic came down the hawsers toward the shore, but many would never have reached it, had it not been for the assistance of the Samoans, who, at the peril of their lives, stood in the boiling torrent, grasping those whose hold was broken from the rope.

Meanwhile, the four large men-of-war, Trenton, Calliope, Vandalia, and Olga, were still afloat and in a comparatively safe position; but about ten o’clock the Trenton was seen to be in a helpless condition; her rudder and propeller were both gone, and there was nothing but her anchors to hold her up against the unabated force of the storm. The Vandalia and Calliope were also in danger, drifting back toward the reef near the point where lay the wreck of the Adler; and they came closer together every minute, until finally the English ship struck the Vandalia and tore a great hole in her bow. Then Captain Kane of the Calliope determined to try to steam out of the harbor as his only hope, and he at once cut loose from all his anchors. The Calliope’s head swung around to the wind and her engines were worked to their utmost power. Great waves broke over her bow and she gained headway at first only inch by inch, but her speed gradually increased until it became evident that she could leave the harbor. This manœuver of the British ship is regarded as one of the most daring in naval annals—the one desperate chance offered her commander to save his vessel and the three hundred lives aboard.

The Trenton’s fires had gone out by that time, and she lay helpless almost in the path of the Calliope. The decks were swarming with men, but, facing death as they were, they recognized the heroic struggle of the British ship, and a great shout went up from aboard the Trenton. “Three cheers for the Calliope!” was the sound that reached the ears of the British tars as they passed out of the harbor in the teeth of the storm; and the heart of every Englishman went out to the brave American sailors who gave that parting tribute to the Queen’s ship.

When the excitement on the Vandalia which followed the collision with the Calliope had subsided, it was determined to beach the vessel, and straining every means at hand to avoid the dreaded reef, she moved slowly across the harbor until her bow stuck in the sand, about two hundred yards off shore and probably eighty yards from the stem of the Nipsic. Her engines were stopped and the men in the engine-room and fire-room below were ordered on deck. The ship swung around broadside to the shore, and it was thought at first that her position was comparatively safe, as it was believed that the storm would abate in a few hours, and the two hundred and forty men on board could be rescued then; but the wind seemed to increase in fury, and as the hull of the steamer sank lower the force of the waves grew more violent, yet no one on shore was able to render the least aid.

These terrible scenes had detracted attention from the other two men-of-war still afloat; but about four o’clock in the afternoon the positions of the Trenton and Olga became most alarming. The flagship had been in a helpless condition for hours, being without rudder or propeller, while volumes of water poured in through her hawser-pipes. Men never fought against adverse circumstances with more desperation than the officers and men of the Trenton displayed during those hours, yet the vessel was slowly forced over toward the eastern reef. Destruction seemed imminent, as the great vessel was pitching heavily, and her stern was but a few feet from the reef. This point was a quarter of a mile from shore, and if the Trenton had struck the reef there, it is probable that not a life would have been saved. A skilful manœuver, suggested by Lieutenant Brown, saved the ship from destruction. Every man was ordered into the port rigging, and the compact mass of bodies was used as a sail. The wind struck against the men in the rigging and forced the vessel out into the bay again. She soon commenced to drift back against the Olga, which was still standing off the reef and holding up against the storm more successfully than any other vessel in the harbor had done, and in spite of every effort on the part of both ships a collision took place which severely damaged both. Fortunately, the vessels drifted apart, whereupon the Olga steamed ahead toward the mud-flats in the eastern part of the bay, and was soon hard and fast on the bottom. Not a life was lost, and several weeks later the ship was hauled off and saved.

The Trenton was now about two hundred feet from the sunken Vandalia, and seemed sure to strike her and throw into the water the men still clinging to the rigging. It was now after five o’clock, and the daylight was beginning to fade away. In a half hour more, the Trenton had drifted to within a few yards of the Vandalia’s bow, and feelings hard to describe came to the hundreds who watched the vessels from the shore.

Presently the last faint rays of daylight faded away, and night came down upon the awful scene. The storm was still raging with as much fury as at any time during the day. The poor creatures who had been clinging for hours to the rigging of the Vandalia were bruised and bleeding; but they held on with the desperation of men who were hanging between life and death. The ropes had cut the flesh on their arms and legs, and their eyes were blinded by the salt spray which swept over them. Weak and exhausted as they were, they would be unable to stand the terrible strain much longer. The final hour seemed to be upon them. The great, black hull of the Trenton was almost ready to crash into the stranded Vandalia and grind her to atoms. Suddenly a shout was borne across the waters. The sound of four hundred and fifty voices was heard above the roar of the tempest. “Three cheers for the Vandalia!” was the cry that warmed the hearts of the dying men in the rigging.

The shout died away upon the storm, and there arose from the quivering masts of the sunken ship a response so feeble it was scarcely heard upon the shore. Every heart was melted to pity. “God help them!” was passed from one man to another. The cheer had hardly ceased when the sound of music came across the water. The Trenton’s band was playing “The Star-Spangled Banner.” The thousand men on sea and shore had never before heard strains of music at such a time as that. An indescribable feeling came over the Americans on the beach who listened to the notes of the national song mingled with the howling of the storm.

But the collision of the Trenton and Vandalia, instead of crushing the latter vessel to pieces, proved to be the salvation of the men in the rigging. When the Trenton’s stern finally struck the side of the Vandalia, there was no shock, and she swung around broadside to the sunken ship. This enabled the men on the Vandalia to escape to the deck of the Trenton, and in a short time they were all taken off.