The following example—the terrible loss of the London—presents a striking contrast to that of the Amazon. She was literally swamped at sea, and there are no recorded parallels to the case on such a scale. Vessels, indeed, are often lost by great leakage produced by collision, but the cases are rare in modern days and in well-found ships, where ordinary leakage and water “shipped” on deck makes any great difference, and in steam-ships the pumps worked by the “donkey” engine, as a rule, effectually prevent any danger from these sources.
THE “LONDON.”
The London was a first-class passenger steamship of her day. She was nearly new, of 1,700 tons, and valued at £80,000. She belonged to a distinguished firm, and had been constructed on the most approved principles. Her commander, Captain Martin, was an officer of ripe experience, and this was her third voyage. She had acquired a first-class reputation; and for months before the time[92] of sailing, berths were so eagerly engaged that it would have been difficult to accommodate, in the roughest manner, many more, while in the saloon there were no vacancies. One lady who was desirous of proceeding with her family from Plymouth to Melbourne had made repeated applications to the owners’ agents, and the captain had been consulted, but, fortunately for the applicant, had declared that the cabins were so full that he could not possibly accommodate her—a result that, at the time, caused her much disappointment; afterwards she had reason to thank her good fortune. A second-class male passenger was so alarmed at the rough weather which the London encountered on her way from the Thames to Plymouth, that on arrival at the latter he went ashore, resigned his passage, and returned to his home, thus unwittingly saving his life. A young man, as the result of some family quarrel, had left his home, and taken a passage by the London. He was advertised for in the Times, and importuned to return, his friends being at first unaware of his whereabouts. Messengers were sent down to Plymouth, his friends having later acquired some clue to his movements, and an influential ship-broker in the town was employed to intercept his flight should he attempt to sail thence. Fortunately, he was detected among the passengers of the London, and the fact communicated to his family by the broker, the result of which was that a brother of the young man went down to Plymouth, and persuaded the would-be emigrant to forego his voyage.
The London left the East India Docks on December 29th, and on account of the severity of the weather remained at anchor at the Nore during part of the 30th and the whole of the 31st. This fact alone would indicate that Captain John Martin, her commander, was a careful seaman. The weather remained boisterous, and after getting out into the Channel the pilot decided to take the vessel for shelter to Spithead. When the weather had abated she proceeded to Plymouth, arriving there on the 5th of January. Here an incident occurred, ominous in its nature, and particularly distressing at the commencement of a voyage, more especially as many passengers at such a time are nervous and fearful. The small boat from a Plymouth pilot cutter, which had on board the pilot and his assistant, was swamped. The latter was rescued by a boat from the London, but the pilot was drowned. The remainder of the day was occupied in shipping an additional number of passengers and filling up with coal. She sailed the same evening. The weather is described as having been then moderate.
On the 6th and 7th of January the wind rose, accompanied by strong squalls and a high sea, which caused the ship to roll considerably. Still the weather was not so boisterous but that Divine service was held on the 7th, it being the Sabbath. On Monday, the 8th, the [pg 292]wind freshened to a gale from the south-west, and at 9 a.m. the captain ordered the engines to be stopped, and to make sail. At 5 p.m. the weather improved, and all sails were taken in, and steaming resumed. Early on Tuesday the wind increased to a hard gale, with a very heavy sea, the ship going under steam only, and at the reduced rate of two knots an hour. At this time she pitched with terrible violence, taking whole seas over her bows. At 7 a.m. an unusually heavy sea broke into the life-boat stowed on the port-quarter, filled her completely, and carried her overboard with all her gear. At 9 a.m. the ship gave a tremendous pitch, so as to bury herself forward, when the sea carried away the jib and flying jibbooms, and they took with them the fore-top mast and fore-top gallant, the fore-royal and main-royal masts, with all their spars, sails, and rigging. The masts fell in-board, and hung suspended by the rigging, but the jibbooms remained under the bows, fastened to the ship by their stays, which were of wire. Every effort to get them clear failed till next morning, it having blown a furious gale all night from the south-west, with a sea that kept constantly washing all forward. On the morning of Wednesday, the 10th, the gale continued without the least abatement, and at 3 a.m. the captain gave orders to Mr. Greenhill, the engineer in charge, to get up full steam, as he intended to put back to Plymouth, in order to refit. The ship’s course was accordingly shaped for home, the fore [pg 293]and mizen stay-sails were set, and she steamed along moderately at the rate of five or six knots. In the course of the morning, the masts, which up to that time had been swinging about aloft, were secured, and the wreck of the jibboom cleared away. Observations taken that day indicated that she was about 200 miles from the Land’s End. At 6 p.m. both the fore and mizen stay-sails were carried away in a furious squall; another life-boat and the cutter were washed clean overboard and lost. At 9 p.m. the wind increased to a perfect hurricane from the north-west, the squalls blowing with a degree of fury seldom paralleled. The engines were stopped, and the ship put under the main top-sail only, which was soon blown away in shreds. The captain once more ordered the engines to be set in motion. Up to this time, notwithstanding the heavy seas she encountered, it does not appear that the vessel had shipped much water.
THE “LONDON” GOING DOWN.
At half-past 10 p.m. a terrific sea broke upon the ship over the weather or port gangway, and an immense mass of water, the crest of a mighty wave, descended almost perpendicularly over the hatch of the engine-room, smashing it right in, admitting tons upon tons of water, washing from the deck into the engine-room two men, a seaman and a passenger. There being nothing to obstruct the influx of sea, the engine-room began to fill with water. The fires were extinguished at once, and in about eight minutes the engines ceased to work. The engineers remained below till the water was above their waists, and they could work no more. The large bilge-pumps also proved useless, and the condition of the ship became utterly helpless, often rolling into the trough of the sea, rolling gunwale under, and labouring heavily. The captain called on those who were baling, “Men, put down your buckets, and come and try to secure the engine-room hatch, for that’s our only chance of saving the ship! Secure that, and we may keep her afloat yet.” Every endeavour, however, to replace the hatch proved unavailing. Efforts were made to stop the opening with sails, mattrasses, and spars, but without success; and although the donkey-engine and pumps were kept at work, yet the water quickly gained upon them, and all their efforts were fruitless. It was then that the captain uttered words of which he knew the full meaning, and which must have thrilled through many of the passengers’ bosoms who had hitherto been hoping against hope—“Boys, you may say your prayers!” All was over with them.
At 4 a.m of the 11th a tremendous sea struck the ship abaft, which stove in four windows, or stern-ports, of the upper or poop cabin. Through the breaches thus made the sea rushed into the ship in such quantities that the ’tween decks were soon half full of water. The ship at this time was settling fast; the captain went into the engine-room, and, with the engineer, took soundings, when it was found that there was fourteen feet of water in her. The captain then told Greenhill that he had abandoned all hope of saving her, and shortly afterwards made a similar communication to the passengers. At about 10 a.m. the captain ordered the boats to be got ready, which was done, and the starboard pinnace, which was of iron, was lowered into the water, but was almost immediately upset by the sea, and lost. Shortly after this the captain entered the saloon, and said, “Ladies, there is no hope for us, I’m afraid. Nothing short of a miracle can save us!”