BURNING OF THE “AMAZON.”
THE “AMAZON” STEAM-SHIP.
When Captain Symons rushed on deck, his first order was to “put up the helm,” which was instantly obeyed. The helmsman, assisted by Mr. Treweeke, the gallant second officer, worked at the wheel till the vessel “paid off” and turned so as to go before the wind. The effects of the wind were, by this device, somewhat moderated, but it had almost advanced to a gale, and the paddles were revolving rapidly, carrying the doomed vessel through the water with headlong speed. The flames were driven, however, forward and away from the passengers and greater number of those on board. To this movement, in fact, is to be attributed the preservation of the few boats which, as we shall see, succeeded in leaving the ship. To extinguish the fire was now out of question; while it was equally impossible to shut off the steam and stop the vessel’s way. Yet, without this being done, no boat could be launched into the water while the vessel was driving on at [pg 282]the rate of thirteen knots an hour. Buckets of water were still thrown on the burning mass; trusses of lighted hay and loose spars thrown overboard. “Keep fast the boats for a while, and try to save the ship!” cried the captain. But, alas! ship and crew were alike doomed. “Don’t lower the boats!” repeated Captain Symons again and again; and the danger—at the rate of the Amazon’s speed—of attempting it was too obvious. Lieut. Grylls, R.N., a passenger on board, was attempting to lower the tackle of one of the boats, when Symons “seized him by the arm, and besought him to desist, as he said everybody would be drowned. Lieut. Grylls then called out to the person by the foremast fall, imploring him not to lower, as the ship was going so fast. The person at the foremast fall, by constant and urgent request of the people in the boat, let the fall go, by which means the boat turned over, and, as nearly as could be seen, every one was washed out of her. Seeing this at the moment, Lieut. Grylls attempted to let go the after fall so as to save them, but the fall being jammed, and having fouled, and the boat thus not being clear, her stern hung in the air for a moment, until cut adrift by some one, when she turned over, and, seeing the people washed away, Lieutenant Grylls turned away from the appalling sight in horror. He then met, face to face, Captain Symons, who called out for some one to help him to clear away the port life-boat, which was stowed on the sponson, abaft the port paddle-box, and at the same moment leaped into the boat, using every endeavour to clear her away. Lieut. Grylls followed, and also exerted himself, but the flames having reached the boat, and Captain Symons’s hair having caught in a blaze, and one sleeve of his shirt, he was obliged to run off, and Lieut. Grylls was compelled to follow him, both rushing through the flames and fire.”
About this time it was discovered that the ship was veering round, owing to the helm having been lashed. A fresh order was shrieked out to keep her before the wind, and two of the officers sprang forward to execute the captain’s bidding. The passengers were now all on deck, with what feelings we can imagine. “At last the shout was raised, ‘Every man for himself!’ but not by the captain. The captain called out, ‘Lower the starboard life-boat!’ to which the answer was, ‘She is on fire!’ ‘Lower the larboard (port, or left-hand) life-boat!’ ‘She is on fire!’ was still the cry. The captain dropped the bucket which he idly held in his hand. ‘It’s all over with us!’ ” But though he knew it so well, he did not relax an effort; nor did Mr. Roberts, the chief officer, nor any of the officers, all of whom went down with the ship. They were last seen collected in a group near the helm; and to the close of that appalling scene nobly did their duty. The last words the captain was heard to say were, “It has got too far.” He then turned aft, took the wheel, and that appears to have been the last that was seen of Captain Symons.
When it was discovered that the two life-boats were on fire, attention could only be given to the other boats. All efforts must be made: better to drown than to die in the midst of flames—suffocated, scorched. “One of the passengers, Mr. Alleyne, of the West Indies, was observed pacing the deck, with his hands clasped in prayer, patiently waiting that awful fate from which he knew there was no escape. A gentleman and lady, in their night-dresses only—both of which were on fire—came on deck, and, with their arms round each other, walked over to one of the ship’s hatches, and fell together into the flames. They had previously been seen standing right abaft and looking perfectly collected, the gentleman before the [pg 283]lady, apparently to keep the heat from her. A female passenger rushed on deck, having on only her night-gown, the bottom of which and her legs were much burnt. Three times she was placed in one of the boats which was saved, but she refused to remain. Several persons hurriedly said to her that they would soon give her plenty of clothing when she got away from the ship, but modesty prevailed over the love of life, and she remained behind to perish.”
A horrible story of one standing near the helm is given: his face and side burnt, and a huge blister formed, which burst in; the skin was falling away in ribbons. A little boy was also burnt black, and the skin was falling from him in a similar manner. Still the vessel was dashing forward in headlong speed, but still efforts were made to launch the boats; but here, in consequence of the manner in which they were stowed—resting on iron crutches or brackets, instead of being simply suspended, as usual—unexpected difficulties presented themselves. It was necessary first to raise them, put them over the bulwarks, and lower them—a work of time and labour. In the hurry two of the boats were stove in; and in the case of others, one end would be lowered properly, the other remaining high in the air, so that the wretched passengers and sailors who crowded into them were plunged violently into the water, escaping the fury of one element only to be devoured by another. In one single case fifteen were thus drowned, while one only escaped. Not to accumulate the details of horrors, which constantly repeated themselves, it may be here stated that the whole number of persons on board the Amazon when she left Southampton was 162; of these 110 formed the crew; there were 50 passengers, and the mail agent and his servant. The first boat which landed at Plymouth brought in 21; the Gertruida, a Dutch galliot, picked up a boat containing 16 on Sunday night, and another containing 8 on the following morning. Another vessel, also a Dutch galliot, picked up 13 more. The total number lost amounted, therefore, to 104, and 58 only were saved.
A survivor stated that during the time they were drifting in their boat towards the ship, which was burning broadside on to the wind, her mainmast went first, the foremast following; it was a considerable time before the mizen-mast fell, directly after which he noted a slight explosion of gunpowder. Previous to this a barque hove in sight, and passed between their boat and the burning ship. They judged her to be outward-bound from her being under close-reefed topsails. As she passed at between three and four hundred yards they hailed her several times with their united voices, strengthened by all the energy of despair. She answered them, and brailed her spanker, and they naturally thought she was preparing to bear up for their rescue. “I shall never forget,” said the narrator, “the deep sob of hope with which I noticed these preparations, or the bitterness of feeling with which I saw him spread his canvas to the wind, and wear round past the stern of the burning vessel, as he left us to our fate.”
Among those who perished on that terrible night was a distinguished author, whose writings are, or should be, familiar to all readers. Warburton[90] perished either in the flames or, as some thought, in one of the boats which was swamped. He had been sent out by the Atlantic and Pacific Junction Company, specially deputed to make a friendly arrangement with the Indians of the isthmus of Darien. As an old and practised traveller, he had proposed [pg 284]to stay on the isthmus for some time, in order to study its topography, scenery, climate, and resources. The Rev. Acton Warburton, his brother, on receipt of the fearful news, and with the fact before him that there were boats not yet accounted for which had been seen to leave the ship, proceeded in a steamer from Plymouth on January 17th, in the hope that, by cruising about in the Channel and entrance to the Bay of Biscay, some traces might be found of his missing relative. All was in vain; no further vestiges of the crew or passengers were found. A few days afterwards a homeward-bound vessel picked up at sea, among other fragments of the wreck, three settees, or backed forms, which had stood on the deck of the Amazon, and which had been lashed together, doubtless for the purpose of supporting some of the crew or passengers in the water. Other pieces of the wreck were washed ashore on different parts of the coast, and a piece of burnt timber was picked up near the Eddystone, [pg 285]having attached to it a fragment of a lady’s dress. One of the mail bags, containing newspapers, unscorched, but very much damaged by sea-water, was washed ashore near Bridport three weeks after the occurrence of the wreck.
