It is highly to the credit of the officers, more especially to those who had deck-cabins, from which it would be easy to remove many portable articles, and even trunks and boxes, that they entirely devoted their time and energies to saving life. They left the ship simply with the clothes they stood in, and were the last to leave it, except, of course, where subordinate officers were detailed to look after portions of the troops. Captain Cobb, in his resolution to be the last to leave the ship, tried all he could to urge the few remaining persons on board to drop on the ropes and save themselves. But finding all his entreaties fruitless, and hearing the guns successively explode in the hold, into which they had fallen, he at length, after doing all in his power to save them, got himself into the boat by “laying hold of the topping-lift, or rope that connects the driver-boom with the mizen-top, thereby getting over the heads of the infatuated men who occupied the boom, unable to go either backward or forward, and ultimately dropping himself into the water.” One of the boats persevered in keeping its station under the Kent’s stern, until the flames were bursting out of the cabin windows. The larger part of the poor wretches left on board were saved: when the vessel exploded, they sought shelter in the chains, where they stood till the masts fell overboard, to which they then clung for some hours. Ultimately, they were rescued by Captain Bibbey, of the Caroline, a vessel bound from Egypt to Liverpool, [pg 74]who happened to see the explosion at a great distance, and instantly made all sail in the direction whence it proceeded, afterwards cruising about for some time to pick up any survivors.
After the arrival of the last boat at the Cambria, “the flames, which had spread along the upper deck and poop, ascended with the rapidity of lightning to the masts and rigging, forming one general conflagration, that illumined the heavens to an immense distance, and was strongly reflected on several objects on board the brig. The flags of distress, hoisted in the morning, were seen for a considerable time waving amid the flames, until the masts to which they were suspended successively fell, like stately steeples, over the ship’s side.” At last, about half-past one o’clock in the morning, the devouring element having communicated to the magazine, the explosion was seen, and the blazing fragments of the once magnificent Kent were instantly hurled, like so many rockets, high into the air; leaving, in the comparative darkness that succeeded, “the deathful scene of that disastrous day floating before the mind like some feverish dream.”
The scene on board the brig beggared description. The captain, who bore the honoured name of Cook, and his crew of eight, did all that was in their power to alleviate the miseries of the six hundred persons added to their number; while they carried sail, even to the extent of danger, in order to make nine or ten knots to the nearest port. The Cornish miners and Yorkshire smelters on board gave up their beds and clothes and stores to the passengers; and it was extremely fortunate that the brig was on her outward voyage, for, had she been returning, she would not, in all probability, have had provisions enough to feed six hundred persons for a single day. But at the best their condition was miserable. In the cabin, intended for eight or ten, eighty were packed, many nearly in a nude condition, and many of the poor women not having space to lie down.
The gale increased; but still they crowded all sail—even at the risk of carrying away the masts—and at length the welcome cry of “Land ahead!” was reported from mouth to mouth. They were off the Scilly lights, and speedily afterwards reached Falmouth, where the inhabitants vied with each other in providing clothing and food and money for all who needed them.
FALMOUTH HARBOUR.
The total loss from the Kent was eighty-one souls; namely, fifty-four soldiers, one woman, twenty children, one seaman, and five boys of the crew. How much greater might it not have been but for the imperturbable coolness, the commanding abilities, and the persevering and prompt action of Captain Cobb, and the admirable discipline and subordination of the troops!
THE LOSS OF THE “BIRKENHEAD.”
Another remarkable instance of the same thing is to be found in the case of the Birkenhead, where there were desperate odds against any one surviving. The ship was a war-steamer, conveying troops from St. Simon’s Bay to Algoa Bay, Cape Colony, and had, with crew, a total complement of 638 souls on board. She struck on a reef, when steaming at the rate of eight and a half knots, and almost immediately became a total wreck. The rock penetrated her bottom, just aft of the fore-mast, and the rush of water was so great that most of the men on the lower troop-deck were drowned in their hammocks. The commanding officer, Major Seton, called his subordinate officers about him, and impressed upon them the necessity of preserving order and perfect discipline among the men, and of assisting the commander of the ship [pg 75]in everything possible. Sixty soldiers were immediately detailed for the pumps, in three reliefs; sixty more to hold on the tackles of the paddle-box boats, and the remainder were brought on the poop, so as to ease the fore-part of the ship, which was rolling heavily. The commander of the ship ordered the horses to be pitched out of the first-gangway, and the cutter to be got ready for the women and children, who were safely put on board. Just after they were out of the ship, the entire bow broke off at the fore-mast, and the funnel went over the side, carrying away the starboard paddle-box and boat. The other paddle-box boat capsized when being lowered, and their largest boat, in the centre of the ship, could not be got at, so encumbered was it. Five minutes later, the vessel actually “broke in two,” literally realising Falconer’s lines:—