That the captain was in some degree ignorant of the exact spot where he was, and was but imperfectly acquainted with the coast, seems manifest from this,—when the hurricane gathered in its might, it was proposed that a barrel of tar should be fired and sent adrift, in order to light up the coast. ‘When the vessel struck,’ says one of the daily newspaper reports, ‘signal guns were fired, rockets sent off, and every means adopted to attract attention from the shore; but the houses in the neighbourhood being few and far between, no practicable assistance was attracted. No life-boat could live in the raging sea, and the boats of the vessel herself were perfectly unavailable.’
From the foregoing, a picture only too vivid of the catastrophe may be realized. The Boatswain’s Mate describes the storm; Mr. Russell paints the ship with all its intense and death-foreboding excitement; and Mr. Bradbury conveys, with dread distinctness, the manner in which the handful of saved fought their way from the jaws of death.
One or two other narratives, purporting to be from survivors, have appeared, but as they are mere paraphrases of those I have given, I have some doubt in the first place of their genuineness, and in the second of the desirability of occupying space with repetitions.
Let the description of the night of the wreck end here.
The moment the news of the disaster reached London and Liverpool, agents from Lloyd’s and the owners of the ship were despatched to Molfre Bay. They were accompanied by representatives of the principal London and Liverpool journals, and the communications which the reporters subsequently addressed to their several papers were affecting in the extreme. Here is the first:—
‘Molfra Bay, Thursday Evening.—It is my very painful duty to record the total wreck of the screw steamship “Royal Charter,” Captain Taylor, which took place at from three to eight o’clock on the morning of Wednesday, at Molfre, a rugged portion of the Anglesea coast, and about midway between Amlwch and Ruffin Island. The ill-fated vessel sailed from Melbourne on the 26th of August, having on board 388 passengers, of whom 63 occupied the saloon, and a crew, including officers, of 112 persons. While the ship was passing Queenstown, on Monday morning, 13 of the passengers landed in a pilot-boat. On Tuesday morning, at eleven o’clock, the “Royal Charter” spoke the steam-tug “United Kingdom,” which, instead of returning to port with riggers who had been assisting in the working of a ship to Cardiff, transferred 11 of the riggers to the “Royal Charter,” Captain Taylor having kindly agreed to take them to Liverpool; so that there were on board at the time of the wreck 498 souls, and of these only 39 were saved.
‘The loss of life on this sad occasion was 459 persons. The “Royal Charter” had on board a large quantity of specie on freight, the exact amount of which cannot be ascertained, as all the ship’s papers have been lost, but it was variously estimated by the surviving passengers and crew at from 500,000l. to 800,000l. One of the saloon passengers, who was drowned, was stated to have had in his possession gold to the value of 10,000l. She had only a moderate cargo, principally of wool and skins.’ [Did the small cargo have anything to do with the loss of the vessel? Would she, if more heavily laden, have drifted so rapidly upon the rocks?] ‘From the time of leaving Port Phillip Heads till the arrival off the Irish coast the passage was in the highest degree favourable; she was only once in danger, and then from an iceberg. After passing Queenstown the wind veered round to E.N.E., blowing strong. On Tuesday night it blew a gale, and continued to increase in violence, till at length, on the morning of the fatal disaster, it became a perfect hurricane. Arriving off Point Lynas at six P.M. on Tuesday evening, signal rockets were for several hours thrown up, in the hope of attracting a pilot, but none made their appearance. Captain Taylor, finding that his ship was making leeway, and gradually drifting towards the shore, let go both the anchors, but such was the violence of the wind, and the heavy cross sea prevailing, that the chains parted.’ [The same night the “Great Eastern” was all but lost through one of her massive cables snapping.] ‘Notwithstanding that the engines were worked at their full power, the captain was unable to work to windward, and the unfortunate vessel struck the rocks stern first in four fathoms water. Up to this period (about three A.M.) not the slightest alarm was evinced among the passengers, a large portion of whom were women and children. The most perfect discipline and order prevailed. The masts and rigging were cut adrift, but caused no relief, as the ship continued to thump on the sharp-pointed rocks with fearful rapidity.
‘Shortly after she struck, the ship was thrown broadside on, perfectly upright upon the shelving stony beach, the head and stern lying due east and west, the former not being more than twenty yards from a projecting rock. At this juncture one of the crew, a Maltese, named Joseph Rogers, nobly volunteered to struggle through the heavy surf and convey a rope on shore. Though it was not believed by any one that danger was imminent, the captain gave the order, and Rogers ably fulfilled his duty. A strong hawser was then passed and secured on shore, and to this was rigged a “boatswain’s chair.” At five o’clock the ship laboured and bumped to such an extent that the ladies and children exhibited the greatest anxiety and fear: they crowded together in the after part of the saloon, and the Rev. Mr. Hodge, of East Retford, a Clergyman of the Church of England, offered up a prayer; but his exhortations were interrupted by the violent thumping of the vessel on the rocks, and the heavy seas which came dashing into the cabin.’ [Throughout the passage, this reverend gentleman had administered religious service, and had made so many friendships that his fellow-passengers had presented him with a testimonial.] ‘The scene in the saloon was of the most heartrending description; children and parents, husbands and wives, were clinging to each other in affectionate embrace. Captain Taylor and Captain Withers came down and tried to allay their fears by assuring them that there was no immediate danger. Scarcely had their words been uttered before a succession of tremendous waves swung her about on the rocks, and she divided amidships, engulfing all on board. Shortly afterwards she also parted at the forehatch, throwing a large number of persons into the sea. Many were killed by the breaking up of the ship. Several of the crew saved themselves by means of the hawser to the shore, while the remainder were hurled upon the rocks by the waves. All the officers perished. Captain Taylor was the last man seen alive on board. He had lashed his body to a spar and was drowned.’ [Some affirm he was killed, after he was in the sea, by a boat falling from its davits. It is said he and Mr. Cowie, the second officer, were seen together, and that the boat struck both at once. Mr. Stevens, the first officer, and Mr. Rogers, the chief engineer, were—runs the main body of testimony—also killed together by the falling of a suspended boat upon the deck.] ‘Mr. Stevens, the chief officer, was killed, it is thought, by the falling rigging. Several of the more fortunate passengers received severe injuries while struggling for life. With the exception of a portion of the midship bulkhead, which appears a few feet above the water, there is scarcely a vestige of the “Royal Charter” remaining. The bullion chest, which was substantially built of iron, and secured to the framing of the ship, is supposed to have been shattered, from the fact of a gold box having been picked up with the address of a leading banking firm upon it.’ [The subsequent operations of the divers have, up to the time I am writing, tended to confirm this hypothesis, although assurances at fifty, sixty, and eighty per cent. are still being effected at Lloyd’s.]
‘About two hundred and fifty sovereigns and a quantity of notes had been picked up among the rocks.
‘At least thirty bodies which have been cast ashore are lying in the adjacent church; most of them are frightfully mutilated. William Hughes, the only apprentice saved, states that when the vessel parted he was in the waist, and was precipitated among the machinery, which was hurled to and fro by the action of the waves. He had given himself up for lost, when a wave lifted him clear of the ship, and landed him in an unconscious state. The survivors during their stay at the scene of the wreck were very kindly treated. Two ladies made themselves conspicuous by their attention to the sufferers. It is stated that all the boats were in perfect readiness for lowering had circumstances permitted.’ [Some of the passengers say the boats were launched, and were dashed to pieces on the rocks.]
The second correspondent’s letter is equally interesting. Of course a number of persons describing one event will, as has been often pointed out, fall into discrepancies of statement. It is not for me to make the reports uniform. I have thrown in a parenthetical explanation here and there; but otherwise the several newspapers must speak for, and explain, themselves. The second communication runs thus:—
‘The “Royal Charter” did not, as was at first stated, strike the ground in Red Wharf Bay, but a place between that point and Amlwch. It is a small opening in the coast, the beach being chiefly sand and stones. It is to the west of Point Lynas, and known as Molfra, a village in the immediate locality, being of that name. The coast is thinly inhabited, and the land flat and uncultivated. Very soon after the fatal catastrophe, which resulted in such an awful sacrifice of human life, the vessel broke up, and nothing remains but pieces of the wreck, which were moved to and fro by the action of the tide. As one of the seamen described it, she broke up like a bandbox.
‘Those of the crew and passengers who escaped were provided with temporary accommodation in the neighbouring cottages, where they received every mark of kindness from the inhabitants. During the day most of them left the place, and were conveyed to Liverpool in steam-tugs sent out by the owners of the ship.’ [And were, it is said, shamefully treated after their arrival. But of this in time.] ‘Last (Friday) evening only one passenger remained, Mr. Russell, with the boatswain’s mate and the carpenter of the ship. Many persons visited the scene of the wreck yesterday, and were making anxious inquiries as to the fate of relatives and friends. For this purpose every facility was afforded. Some of the scenes arising out of these inquiries amongst those deprived of their nearest relatives and friends were affecting in the extreme. Shortly after the wreck several of the bodies of the unfortunate sufferers by the calamity floated upon the beach; subsequently others were picked up, and the number amounted at a late hour last evening to twenty-six. Of these, five were females, and two of them young children. The bodies were conveyed to Llanallgo church, and carefully laid out on straw, so as to afford an opportunity for identification. Some had on their clothing, while others were only partially dressed, as though when the vessel struck they had been in their berths, and rushed suddenly to the deck in a state of alarm on being made acquainted with the perilous position of the ship. Many of the bodies bore evidence of injuries, probably sustained from being dashed against the rocks, or coming into violent contact with portions of the wreck. One man had nearly all his limbs broken, and the body had, as it were, to be gathered up. Another was without the head, and several were much bruised on various parts of the body. Some small boats and papers were picked up yesterday on the beach. One of the papers appeared to be a diary kept by a passenger on board, supposed to be a clergyman of Nottingham. The various incidents of the voyage, from the time of leaving Melbourne until the arrival at Queenstown, were carefully recorded by the writer.’ [This is doubtless Mr. Hodge, a good man who would keep a diary.] ‘The riggers previously referred to as being on board the “Royal Charter” when she grounded have lost six of their number, namely, James O’Neill, Richard Morris, William Thomas, Peter Topping, Thomas Corcoran, and Henry White. Those saved are James White, Patrick Devine, —— Pritchard, Thomas Cunningham, and William Burton. Some of them swam ashore, and others succeeded in saving themselves by the aid of the hawser. So far none of the passengers’ luggage or articles of a similar kind have been washed on shore.’ [Much was afterwards found, as will be seen.] ‘A few articles of male and female attire have been collected, and these are taken care of by the officers of police and coast-guard now on duty. The services of the Anglesea militia have also been called into requisition, to assist in the protection of any property received, and also in the removal of the bodies washed up on the shore. The position of the vessel at the time of the catastrophe, and whether or not blame attaches to the captain or his officers, were subjects of comment amongst many of those who visited the spot yesterday. At present it would be unfair to give currency to these remarks, seeing that the matter will undergo a strict investigation at the coroner’s inquest. The number of persons saved is now stated to be thirty-nine; and of these, twenty-one are passengers, and the remainder belong to the crew. Only very few of the bodies recovered have yet been identified. A gentleman attended yesterday, to make inquiry as to his wife, whom he supposed to be on board the “Royal Charter.” The body of his beloved partner was not amongst those lying in the church, but on a closer investigation, his eye fell on the corpse of a faithful servant, who, he felt sure, would accompany his wife on the voyage. This fact too truly told the mournful result.
‘The man who swam on shore with the hawser was a Maltese, and not a Portuguese, as first said. He lost everything he possessed, and swooned when he reached land.’
Depend upon it that man (“heroism has no country”) will be rewarded. We shall not do here as was done in Sydney when the ‘Dunbar’ was lost,—allow our sympathy to expend itself upon the saved to the all but utter forgetfulness of the saviour.
A third and a later newspaper reporter’s letter must find a place:—