On the 26th of July following, a fleet and convoy, amongst which were these ships, left Port Royal for England, under the command of Admiral Graves in the “Ramilies.” They encountered several very heavy gales of wind, and on the 16th of September, in lat. 42° 15’, long. 48° 55’, a storm set in which lasted several days. About three A.M. on the 17th, the wind, which had been blowing from S.E., suddenly shifted, and a brief lull was succeeded by a most violent squall, with furious rain from N.N.W., which is described as “exceeding in degree everything of the kind that the oldest seaman in the fleet had ever seen, or had any conception of.” The “Ramilies” went to the bottom soon after four P.M. on the 21st. Most of her crew were saved. The “Centaur” foundered on the night of the 23rd, in lat. 48° 32’, long. 43° 20’. Her captain, Inglefield, and eleven of her people, in the pinnace, left her in a sinking state about five o’clock on that evening, and after suffering severely for sixteen days, in the course of which one man, Thomas Matthews, quartermaster, died from cold and exposure, they landed at Fayall in an exhausted condition, having made a voyage of more than 750 miles in a open boat. The “Glorieux” and the “Ville de Paris” also sank during the gale, and only one man of the crew of the latter vessel was saved, having been picked up on some floating wreck. His name was John Wilson, and he gave evidence at Portsmouth concerning the disaster on the 22nd of March, 1783. The “Caton,” “Canada,” “Ardent,” and “Jason” escaped with loss of spars and other damage. The “Hector” was attacked by two French frigates, left by them in a crippled condition, and sank—many of the crew being saved by the “Hawkesnow,” letter of marque. These are well-attested facts. De Montfort’s fabulous statement was, that on the night following the battle, the “Ville de Paris” fired minute guns and made other signals of extreme distress, and that in consequence of this nine other men-of-war bore down to her assistance, converging on her as a common focus, and were all simultaneously involved in her mournful fate—that of being dragged beneath the yawning waves by enormous poulpes. His pretended history, as well as his ingenious, but disingenuous theory, was drawn from his imagination; and the one is as false as the other is absurd.
[39] “Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres australes.”
[40] “Voyage de l’Uranie: Zoologie:” vol. i., part 2, p. 411. 1824.
[41] “Manuel des Mollusques,” p. 86.
[42] “Bemerk, Uber die Gattung der Dintenfisch, etc.,” 1793.
[43] “Note sur la Seiche à six pattes, Sepia hexopodia de Molina, et sur deux autres espèces de Seiches signalées par cet auteur.”
[44] De Ferussac severely denounces Molina’s lack of truthfulness, and administers a rebuke which may be useful to some writers of the present day. Whilst avoiding the imputation of wilful repetition and propagation of false-hood, he gravely censures the acceptance of error as truth. He says:—“This suggests sad reflections on the amplifications, reticences, and fantastic inventions of some savants, and on the absence of scrutiny apparent in some scientific works. It should serve to prove, more and more, the necessity of careful examination before accepting or rejecting doubtful species, although it is more convenient to accept statements as they are found, without taking the trouble to verify them by proper research. We know very well that the majority of naturalists, with the exception of a small number of especially pains-taking men, are unaware of the negligence, the double use of incidents, and the repetition of innumerable errors to which those who are content thus to work expose themselves.”
[45] “British Conchology,” vol. v., p. 124.
[46] In the illustration of this occurrence given in M. Louis Figuier’s book, “La Vie et les Mœurs des Animaux,” and the English translations of it, the size of the calamary is so exaggerated that undeserved discredit has been brought by it on the narrators of the incident.
[47] This is the specimen described by Molina.