“We found the men rather excited over their discovery. The wine must have been very new and very strong, for the smell from it as it slopped about all over the deck was almost enough to intoxicate anybody. One pipe had already been emptied into the breakers and barrels, and great efforts were made to get some of the casks out whole; but this was found to be impossible, without devoting more time to the operation than we chose to spare. The men managed to remove three half empty casks with their heads stove in, which they threw overboard, but the full ones would have required special appliances to raise them through the hatches. It proved exceedingly difficult to get at the wine, which was stowed underneath the cork, and there was also a quantity of cabin bulkheads and fittings floating about under the influence of the long swell of the Atlantic. It was a curious sight, standing on the roof of the deck-house, to look into the hold, full of floating bales of cork, barrels, and pieces of wood, and to watch the sea surging up in every direction through and over the deck, which was level with the water’s edge. I saw an excellent modern iron [pg 63]cooking-stove washing about from side to side; but almost every other movable article, including spars and ropes, had apparently been removed by previous boarders.” It would have delayed them too long to tow her into port, or they might have recovered some £1,500 as salvage, while to blow her up would have required more powder than they had on board. So she was left helplessly drifting about, a danger to any vessel running into her full steam or sail almost as great as a sunken rock.
Later, the owner of the Sunbeam was of real service, for a fine vessel was encountered, under full sail and on fire, her cargo being smelting coal. Her red Union Jack was upside down, while her signals read the terrible announcement, “Ship on fire!” These were followed by the signal, “Come on board at once,” and a boat’s crew was at once despatched to the rescue. They were purposely well armed, and for the sufficient reason that there was little sign of fire or smoke on board, and it was thought that there might be a mutiny on board. In a few minutes the boat returned with the chief mate, a fine-looking Norwegian, who reported his vessel the Monkshaven, sixty-eight days from Swansea, and bound for Valparaiso. The fire had been discovered five days previously, and the morning following the first day the crew had got all their clothes and provisions on deck, and had thrown everything of a combustible nature—tar, oil, pitch, spare spars, and so forth—overboard. The hatches had then been battened down, but all efforts to subdue the fire were unavailing. The officers and men had been living on deck under a canvas screen, the water being a foot deep even there. When the hatches were opened for a moment, dense clouds of hot, suffocating yellow smoke immediately poured forth, driving back all who approached. In such cases it is often difficult to find the location of the fire, which may at any time burst open the deck or burn a hole through the hull. The dangerous nature of such cargoes may be inferred from the fact that of every three vessels going out to Valparaiso or Callao, one catches fire, although, of course, the flames are often got under control. They had encountered a terrific gale, and while burning had signalled a large American steamship, which had contemptuously steamed away from them. When the men had all been transferred to the yacht—for it was found impossible to save the barque—the poor fellows were almost wild with joy and excitement. Soon after the fated vessel was blazing like a tar-barrel, and the yacht steamed round her near enough for all on board to feel the heat. Fifteen extra mouths to feed was a serious addition to the passengers and crew of the Sunbeam, and the water ration had to be cut down, but otherwise they had all they could wish, and a week later were transferred to the Pacific Company’s mail steamer Illimani, then homeward bound. The satisfaction which must have been felt by Mr. and Mrs. Brassey at having the ability as well as the will to save fifteen lives may well be imagined.
One of woman’s noblest attributes is her readiness to help in the hour of need, and its exercise has been by no means confined to the land. Late in 1879 the British India Steam Navigation Company’s steamer Eldorado had a hairbreadth escape from destruction in the Bay of Biscay. The rascally Lascar crew abandoned their posts and gave themselves up to despair, and the passengers “passed” coal to the stoke-hole and worked hard at baling; many ladies even volunteered to assist, and two American ladies acted as stewardesses and dispensed coffee and provisions to the rest.
THE RESCUE FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE RIVER.
How often of late years have female swimmers saved life? The case to be cited, and [pg 64]which occurred in fresh water, is only one of scores that might be recorded here. On the 5th December, 1879, two men had to cross the St. Lawrence River, from La Rue Island to a wharf on the main shore. It was an intensely cold day, and a heavy gale was blowing strongly from the north-east up the river. The men loaded their punt with a sleigh, and had managed to reach the middle of the channel, when a sudden and violent gust of wind swamped the punt and turned her over. The men clung to her while bottom upward, and tried to “tread” the water so as to get her to the shore, but in vain; the cold was so intense that their legs were benumbed above the knees, and they gave themselves up for lost. They remained in this perilous position for a considerable time, shouting loudly for help till their throats were sore. Making a final effort, they shouted again, and this time their cries were heard at the house of a Mr. Darling, who, with his family, resided close to the shore. That gentleman was ill in bed, but his wife and daughters, Maggie and Jessie, were at home, the men and boys being at work in the fields at a distance. On hearing the last painful shout of the drowning men, they quickly opened the door, to see them struggling in the great river—a stream the width and volume of which surpass anything in Europe. The first suggestion from the mother was to fetch the men from the fields, but before this could be done brave Maggie and Jessie—the latter a girl of sixteen years—had, without a word, launched the skiff, and were rowing with all their strength through the troubled waters and driving storm. They had the greatest difficulty in reaching the exhausted and helpless men, but at last their noble effort was rewarded, and in ten minutes the poor fellows were being chafed and warmed by their father’s fire. Brave Maggie and Jessie! worthy successors, indeed, to your namesake, the heroine of the Longstone Light!
The story of Grace Darling must be familiar to our readers. The circumstances which called forth her courage and humanity were as follow:—
The Forfarshire, a steamer of moderate size, left Hull for Dundee on the evening of September 5th, 1838, having on board a considerable amount of freight and sixty-three passengers and crew. Soon after leaving the Humber the boilers began to leak, and on Thursday morning the weather became very tempestuous, while a thick mist enveloped the vessel. The steamer managed to pass the Fern Islands, on the way north, early on Thursday evening, but had all she could do to make headway in a very heavy sea, while the alarming fact was discovered that her boilers’ leakage was increasing. As the night advanced the weather became more and more boisterous, and somewhere off Berwick it was found that the water from above was deluging the furnace fires. Off St. Abb’s Head, the engineer reported that the machinery would work no longer; the sails were accordingly set, and the vessel allowed to drive before the wind, which took her southward. Before daybreak on Friday morning the roar of breakers near at hand was heard; and the captain tried hard to avert the appalling catastrophe which seemed inevitable, and steer the vessel between the islands and the mainland, through a channel known as the Fair Way. But the Forfarshire would not answer her helm, and was driven hither and thither by a furious sea. The scene at this juncture baffles description. Utter darkness enveloped the doomed vessel, over which the sea broke in tremendous waves, and the noise of which almost drowned the agonising shrieks of the passengers. The vessel, a few minutes later, struck a rock, her bows banging and crashing upon it. At this moment [pg 65]a rush was made by eight of the crew to a boat, which they lowered successfully, one almost naked and frenzied passenger jumping into it after them. The ship was now at her last extremity.
“Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave;