"No description can realize the awful state of the ill-fated ship and all on board at this appalling moment; the night was rainy and so dark that it was impossible to ascertain their position, beyond the fact of their being repeatedly driven with tremendous force against cliffs of a stupendous height above them, and consequently inaccessible, and not offering the slightest chance of escape; the upper deck of the ship, the only part in which exertion could be useful, was completely choked up with masts, sails, and rigging, which presented obstacles that rendered unavailing every attempt at active exertion; while the ears of all, who were of course using their utmost endeavors for the general safety, were pierced by the cries of the dying and wounded for the assistance which the imperious calls of duty forbade them to give. Nothing but inevitable destruction presented itself to all on board; and their perfectly helpless state rendered all deliberation useless; and indeed there was no choice of measures, no point on which to offer an opinion, and they could only await such means as Providence might present."[[1]]
As by a miracle, the bowsprit and yard-arms had so checked the speed of the frigate, acting as a sort of buffer, that her hull was not smashed like an eggshell but was found to be fairly tight. All of the boats had been smashed by the falling spars, and the wretched company could only hang fast and pray that the wreck might float until daylight. But the hammering seas soon caused her to leak through yawning seams, and despairing of keeping her from sinking, a few of the crew managed to reach a shelving projection of rock about twenty feet above the deck. It was a forlorn hope, so perilous to attempt that many of those who scrambled for a foothold fell between the ship and the cliff and were drowned or crushed to death.
Presently the hulk swung away from the face of the cliff and was driven a distance of a third of a mile along the coast and into a tiny cove or notch in the bold headlands of Cape Frio. Here she remained, now sinking very fast. The party who had succeeded in making a landing on the ledge clawed their way to the rescue, following the drifting ship, and with the hardihood and agility of British tars of the old breed, they made their way down the declivity like so many cats and succeeded in making fast to a rope thrown by their comrades on board. By this means, several men had been hauled to safety when the dying frigate lurched wildly and parted the hawser.
It was discovered that she now rested on the bottom. Part of the port bulwark, the hammock-nettings, the taffrail, and the stumps of the masts remained above water, and to these the crew clung while the surf roared over their heads and threatened to tear them away. The situation was now hopeless, indeed, but all left alive on board were saved by the daring and strength of one man, Boatswain Geach. He fought his way through the breakers to the stump of the bowsprit, lashed himself there, and succeeded in passing a line to his comrades on shore. A strong rope was then hauled up and one by one the men on board were slung to safety upon the cliffs. Almost all the survivors were dreadfully bruised and lacerated.
When the news reached Rio Janeiro, the British sloop-of-war Lightning was in that port, and her commander, Captain Thomas Dickinson, was the sort of man who likes nothing better than to lead a forlorn hope and grapple with difficulties. Said he:
"The consternation occasioned by the dreadful catastrophe was not confined to naval persons, but was universally felt at Rio, particularly among mercantile people, since from the tenor of the letter, and the description given by the officer who brought it, the ship and everything she contained were considered as totally lost. The event became a matter of general conversation; but while everyone deplored it, I did not hear of any who seemed disposed to venture on an attempt to recover the property, all appearing to consider the case as perfectly hopeless.... Here was an undertaking which, if successful, would assuredly lead to professional reputation and fortune, but which everyone whom I addressed on the subject thought must fail. Still, the scarcity of the opportunities of obtaining distinction and credit, by an extraordinary act of duty, which present themselves to officers in these piping times of peace, offered a consideration which prevailed, and I determined on making the attempt, if I could get orders from the Commander-in-Chief to that effect."
The admiral of the station proceeded to Cape Frio with a squadron of five vessels, and after a careful study of the situation of the wreck concluded that it would be futile to try to recover any of the sunken treasure. In the face of this verdict, Captain Dickinson felt reluctant to press his own views, but the bee in his bonnet would not be denied. "Actuated, however, by the same feelings which had at first prompted me to hazard the attempt, and having a natural repugnance to receding after having, during my inquiries, disclosed my views very freely, I was resolved to persevere. During the absence of the Commander-in-Chief, I constantly employed myself in inquiring for any persons likely to assist me, searching for implements, and obtaining all the information within my reach, and devised several instruments of minor importance which appeared likely to be useful. On his return from Cape Frio, I showed these to him, of the whole of which he approved."
Captain Dickinson could find no diving bell in Rio, so this versatile officer proceeded to make one, and an extraordinary contrivance it was for men to risk their lives in at the bottom of the sea. From H.M.S. Warspite, one of the squadron in harbor, he obtained two iron water tanks. These were turned over to an English mechanic named Moore, formerly employed by the Brazilian government, who was assisted by the carpenter of the Lightning. Between them they fashioned the water tanks into something that looked like a diving bell. These capable artisans then built an air pump, and now they were shy of hose through which to force air to the submerged toilers.
"Being unable to find a workman in Rio Janeiro who would undertake to make an air-tight hose," explains Captain Dickinson, "there appeared for a time to be a stop to my preparations; but recollecting that there was a Truscott's pump on board the Lightning, I attempted to render the hoses belonging to it fit for the purpose, and to my great delight succeeded, by first beating them hard with a broad-faced hammer to render the texture as close as possible, then giving them a good coat of Stockholm tar, afterwards parceling them well with new canvas saturated with the same material, and finally serving them with three-yarn spun-yarns, made of new yarns and well twisted.
"Having thus surmounted without assistance the two most formidable difficulties that had yet presented themselves, I entertained a hope that my own resources would prove equally available on future occasions; and hence my confidence in ultimate success increased, in the event of the stores and treasure still remaining where the ship was lost. My officers and crew likewise now began to feel a great interest in all that was doing; and their conduct and expressions afforded me a happy presage that their future exertions would fulfill my most sanguine expectations.... I could not but feel that the same encouragement was not afforded by some from whom I had most reason to expect both it and assistance; for although I had now been for six weeks engaged in work, drudging on in the double capacity of carpenter and blacksmith, I had not a single voluntary offer by them of any article that might be useful to me. Nor was the kindness of my friends very encouraging; for they almost universally endeavored to dissuade me from venturing on an enterprise which everyone considered hopeless; to all of which remonstrances my only reply was, that my mind was made up, and that I should not withdraw from it."