Tales of Shipwrecks and Other Disasters at Sea

by Thomas Bingley

In these awful circumstances, Captain Cobb, with an ability and decision of character that seemed to increase with the imminence of the danger, resorted to the fearful experiment of ordering the lower decks to be scuttled, and the lower port-holes of the vessel to be opened, for the free admission of the waves.

These orders were speedily executed, but not before several of the unhappy passengers had perished from suffocation. So dense and oppressive was the smoke, that it was with the greatest difficulty any person could remain long enough below deck to execute the captain's wishes, but no sooner were they accomplished, than the sea rushed in with extraordinary force, carrying before it the largest chests, bulk-heads, and other weighty articles. The immense quantity of water thus introduced, had the effect of checking the fury of the flames for a time, but a new source of danger suddenly opened upon them—the ship becoming water-logged, and seemed in danger of going down.

The scene of horror that now presented itself almost baffles description. The upper deck was covered with between 600 and 700 human beings, many of whom, from previous sea-sickness, were forced, on the first alarm, to flee from below, in a state of absolute nakedness, and were now running about in quest of husbands, children or parents. While some were standing in silent resignation, or in stupid insensibility, to their impending fate, others were yielding themselves up to frantic despair. Some on their knees were earnestly imploring the mercy of Him whose arm, they exclaimed, was at length outstretched to smite them; others were to be seen hastily crossing themselves, and performing various external acts required by their particular persuasion; while a number of the older and more stouthearted soldiers and sailors took their seats directly over the powder magazine,—hoping, as they stated, that by means of the explosion which they every instant expected, a speedier termination might be put to their sufferings.

All hope had departed, and the employment of the different individuals indicated an utter despair of rescue. One was to be seen thoughtfully removing a lock of hair from his writing-desk to his bosom, and another officer, procuring paper, addressed a short communication to his father, which he afterwards carefully enclosed in a bottle, in the hope that it might eventually reach its destination, and relieve him from the long years of fruitless anxiety and suspense, which the melancholy fate which hung over him might awaken. At this appalling instant, when all hope of being saved was taken away, it occurred to Mr. Thompson, the fourth mate, to send a man to the fore-top, rather with the ardent wish that some friendly sail might be descried on the face of the waters, than with any expectation that it would be realized. For a moment the sailor who ascended threw his eyes around the horizon—a moment of unutterable suspense—and then, waving his hat, exclaimed, "A sail, on the lee bow!" The joyful announcement was received with heartfelt thanksgivings, and answered by three loud cheers from those on deck; the signals of distress were instantly hoisted, minute-guns fired, and endeavors made, under three topsails and foresail, to bear down upon the stranger, which proved to be the Cambria, a small brig of two hundred tons burthen, commanded by Captain Cook, and bound to Vera Cruz, having on board twenty or thirty Cornish miners, and some agents of the Anglo-Mexican company.

For ten or fifteen agonizing minutes, the crew of the Kent were in doubt whether the brig perceived their signals, or, perceiving them, was either disposed or able to give them any assistance. From the violence of the gale, as they afterwards learned, the report of the guns was not heard, but the ascending volumes of smoke from the ship sufficiently announced the dreadful nature of their distress; and after a short period of the greatest suspense, they saw the brig hoist British colours, and crowd all sail to hasten to their relief.

While the vessel was approaching, arrangements were made for getting out the boats, so as to have all in readiness so soon as she came within a reasonable distance. Before hoisting out the boat, it was filled with the officers' ladies and the female passengers, and as many of the soldiers' wives as it could safely carry. They hurriedly wrapped themselves in whatever articles of clothing they could first lay their hands on; and, at about half past two o'clock, a most mournful procession advanced from the after-cabins to the starboard cuddy-port, from the outside of which the cutter was suspended. Not a sound was heard—not a syllable was uttered—even the infants ceased to cry, as though conscious of the unspoken anguish that was rending the hearts of their parting parents; nor did aught occur to break the solemn stillness of the scene, save in one or two instances, when the ladies plaintively entreated to be left behind with their husbands; but being assured that every moment's delay might occasion the sacrifice of life, they successively suffered themselves to be torn from the tender embrace; and, with a fortitude which never fails to characterize and adorn their sex on occasions of overwhelming trial, were placed, without a murmur, in the boat, which was immediately lowered into so tempestuous a sea, as to leave them only to hope against hope, that it should live in it for a single moment. Twice the cry was heard from those on the chains that the boat was swamping; but He who enabled the apostle Peter to walk on the face of the deep, was graciously attending to the silent, but earnest, aspirations of those on board, and had decreed its safety.

Although every precaution was taken to diminish the danger of the boat's descent—a man having been stationed at each end, with an axe, ready to cut the ropes, in case of any difficulty occurring in unhooking it from the tackle by which it was lowered—yet the extreme difficulty of the operation had nearly proved fatal to the whole of its precious cargo. After one or two unsuccessful attempts had been made to place the little frail bark fairly upon the surface of the water, the command was given to unhook: the stern tackle was immediately cleared, but the ropes at the bow having got foul, the sailors there found it impossible to obey the order. In vain was the axe applied to the entangled tackle. The moment was inconceivably critical, as the boat, necessarily following the motions of the ship, was gradually rising out of the water, and must in another instant have been hanging perpendicularly by the bow, and its helpless passengers precipitated into the sea, had not a wave providentially struck the stern and lifted it up, so as to enable the seamen to clear the tackle; and the boat, being dexterously disentangled from the ship, was soon seen battling with the billows in its progress to the brig—one instant like a speck upon their summit, and then disappearing for several seconds, as if engulfed in the horrid vale between them.

The Cambria having prudently lain at some distance from the Kent, lest she should be involved in her explosion, or exposed to the fire of the guns, which, being all shotted, afterwards went off as they were successively reached by the flames, the boat had a considerable distance to row. The interval of its leaving the Kent, and its arrival at the side of the Cambria, was a time of most intense interest; at length, however, it reached her in safety, and the inmates, one after another, arrived on board.

It being impossible for the boats, after the first trip, to come alongside the Kent, a plan was adopted for lowering the women and children by ropes from the stern, by tying them two-and-two together. But from the heaving of the ship, and the extreme difficulty of dropping them at the instant the boat was underneath, many of the poor creatures were unavoidably plunged repeatedly under water: all the women, from their superior strength, were happily able to endure this rough usage, but, unfortunately, several children fell victims.

Amid the conflicting feelings and dispositions manifested by the numerous actors in this melancholy drama, many affecting proofs were elicited of parental and filial affection, or of disinterested friendship, that seemed to shed a momentary halo around the gloomy scene.