Restore the dead, thou sea!”
GETTING OUT THE “LONDON’S” BOATS.
The boat, into which the captain had thrown a compass, and to the occupants of which [pg 297]he had shouted their course, “NNE. to Brest!” left the sinking London none too soon. The number in the boat consisted of nineteen souls, all that were saved by any means, and comprised the first, second, and third engineers, one midshipman, twelve of the crew, and three passengers (all second class; no first class or steerage passengers whatever were saved). Shortly afterwards those who went in the boat pushed off from the ship, seeing that she must immediately sink, and apprehending that the boat might be sucked in as she went down. They had hardly got eighty yards off, when the stern of the London plunged beneath the waves, with crew and passengers and all. Her bows stood upright for a moment or two preceding the fatal plunge, exposing the keel as far as the foremast. The wind was howling so fiercely that not a sound could be heard of the shrieks and groans of over two hundred persons who were going, in sight of the pitiful remnant in the boat, to their last doom. They saw a whole group of passengers suddenly swept off the deck, and they saw that the remaining boat, full of people, was drawn down into the vortex made by the sinking ship. The third officer, Mr. Arthur Angel, aged 20, with noble devotion to his duty, was observed still at his post by the pumps as she went down. The next minute there was but a watery waste over the grave of that devoted band, so full of hope and life but a day before.
With but a few biscuits on board, and drenched to the skin by every wave, the nineteen survivors in their open boat drifted about for twenty hours. They fancied that they saw a ship through the gloom, and raised their voices in one united shout. They were heard, and their hail returned; but they were not seen, and had no light to show. The ship tacked again and again in the hopes of finding them, and when their suspense was at its highest, sailed away, and they saw her dim form disappearing in the darkness. When day dawned another ship was sighted far in the distance. A shirt was hoisted for a signal, and the oars were zealously plied. After five hours they were rescued by this vessel, the Italian barque Marianople, on board which they received a hearty welcome from the captain and his men. They were eventually landed safely at Falmouth.
CHAPTER XXII.
Early Steamship Wrecks and their Lessons.
The Rothsay Castle—An Old Vessel, unfit for Sea Service—A Gay Starting—Drifting to the Fatal Sands—The Steamer Strikes—A Scene of Panic—Lost Within easy reach of Assistance—An Imprudent Pilot—Statements of Survivors—A Father and Son parted and re-united—Heartrending Episodes—The Other Side: Saved by an Umbrella—Loss of the Killarney—Severe Weather—The Engine-fires Swamped—At the Mercy of the Waves—On the Rocks—The Crisis—Half the Passengers and Crew on an Isolated Rock—Spolasco and his Child—Holding on for Dear Life—Hundreds Ashore “Wrecking”—No Attempts to Save the Survivors—Several Washed Off—Deaths from Exhaustion—“To the Rescue!”—Noble Efforts—Failure of Several Plans—A Novel Expedient adopted—Its Perils—Another Dreary Night—Good Samaritans—A Noble Lady—Saved at Last—The Inventor’s Description of the Rope Bridge—The Wreck Register for One Year—Grand Work of the Lifeboat Institution.
The Rothsay Castle was a steamship built in 1812, and was little enough adapted for marine navigation. She was one of the first vessels of the kind on the Clyde, and was perhaps constructed for the ordinary wear and tear to which a river vessel is exposed, [pg 298]but certainly, at her age, should never have been allowed to leave Liverpool for Beaumaris in weather so bad that an American vessel which had been towed out that day had been compelled to return to port. She had been, it was said, at one time, condemned to be broken up, but other counsels had prevailed, and she had been patched up and repaired for continued service.