The mainmast fell at about seven o’clock in the morning, and the foremast an hour [pg 269]later, when most of those who remained in their rigging were lost. Just before the foremast had fallen, four boats from the shore arrived, and picked up several persons from the water, but finding the sea too heavy to allow them to go alongside the ship, one of them went to St. Mary’s, to convey intelligence of the disaster and to procure the aid of the steam-tug and lifeboat. As soon as possible the latter arrived in tow of the steamer, but all, alas! was then over, and they only picked up twenty-three bags of mail matter and a few bodies. Out of 384 souls only 53 were saved.
It was about ten o’clock in the evening when the ship struck. A little festive party had been given in honour of the birthday of one of the officers, but there is no evidence to show that the working of the ship was thereby neglected. The majority of the passengers were on deck, on the look-out for land, which they knew was near. Nearly all the women and children and a few men were in their berths; others were sitting about, talking, smoking, playing cards or dominoes, and thinking little of the fate which was so soon to befall them. There was not the slightest premonition of the disaster, and the shock appears to have been so slight that few were at first aware that the ship had struck on a rock. But in a few minutes the sea which ran over her forced her on her broadside, where she lay constantly [pg 270]washed over by the breakers. Let the reader imagine, if he can, the sudden change from the gaiety and hopefulness on board, the anticipations of soon reaching shore and home, to that scene of wild terror and dismay!
THE BISHOP ROCK LIGHTHOUSE.
About midnight the funnel fell overboard and smashed two of the starboard boats. Soon after the fog cleared away, and a gleam of hope arose when the bright clear light of the Bishop Rock Lighthouse shone out. But it was only momentary, and dense darkness soon surrounded them. When the deck-house was swept away by a sea so heavy that it ran up to the top of the mainmast, a heartrending cry, mingled with shrieks and groans, rent the air. Nearly two hundred perished by this one catastrophe. Then the captain gathered for safety some people on the bridgeway, the highest place, in the vain hope of saving them. Every one, including the captain, engineers, and doctor, were swept off. The riggings of both masts were now crowded with people. With every lurch the steamer careened over to the starboard side until the yards touched the water, and the cargo began to float about on all sides. Bales of wool and cotton, feathers, trunks, boxes, and woodwork of all kinds, strewed the waves.
A survivor—one of seven who left the ship in a boat and was afterwards instrumental in picking up others—said that they cruised about the greater part of the night near the vessel, and that the screaming all the time was heartrending, and lasted almost from the commencement of the disaster to four o’clock in the morning, when it ceased. Alas! by that time nearly all had gone to their long account. The last screams he heard, and which he could never forget, were from a little child. Mingled with all was the cracking of the ship’s timbers as wave after wave broke over her. One by one the lights disappeared, till, at three o’clock, not one was left but the masthead light.
A proportion of the bodies only were recovered, among them those of several ladies wearing valuable jewellery; one had £200 in money upon her, which she had endeavoured to save. That with 1,200 life-belts on board so few should have escaped seems nearly incredible; but the panic and other circumstances help to account for the sad fact. The second mate stated that he had much trouble in getting the passengers to understand the importance of wearing them well under the armpits, and that if the belt got below the waist it would at once force the head under water. From the position of some of the corpses recovered, it is evident that many must have perished in this manner. In a number of cases the lower strings of the life-belts had broken. The larger part of the dead were buried on the various islands of the Scilly group.[83]
The main features of this disaster teach some important lessons. “We find,” says a writer in The Lifeboat, “in this instance, a noble ship, under full control of steam and sail; the captain[84] an able, experienced, and careful officer, whose devotion to his duty [pg 271]and sense of the responsibility thrown on him were shown by the fact of his not having had his clothes off for five nights previous to the loss of his ship; and the weather fine, with the exception of the prevalence of a dense fog.
“If we further inquire whether the owners of the ship had done their duty in providing their passengers with all available means of safety, we find that she had an ample and competent crew, had eight boats, six of them being life-boats, and that life-belts more than sufficient for every one on board were provided, and were to a large extent used, since all, or nearly all, the bodies that were picked up had life-belts on them. The latter may, however, have been of inferior quality—indeed, are said to have been so. With so many elements of safety, what then caused them to be of no avail?
“The immediate causes of the loss of the ship were apparently the dense fog and an insufficient allowance for the set of the well-known current which sets out of the Bay of Biscay to the northward, across the entrance of the British Channel, which has sometimes considerable strength.