THE STORY OF CHARLES GORDON AND CHRISTINA CUNNINGHAM.
On the 21st of March, 1743, Captain Richard Dundas, commander of the frigate Arethusa, carrying forty-four guns and 250 men, sailed from Deptford with that vessel in perfect order and condition, and bound for Leith. The ship was one of the finest in the service, and the commander a man of great energy and intelligence. Mr Charles Gordon, superintendent of his Majesty's dockyard at Deptford, a young officer of distinguished ability and exemplary character, was one of the passengers. No incident worthy of notice occurred until they reached St Abb's Head, when they were overtaken with a strong adverse gale of wind and heavy snow storm, which unfortunately drove them from their course, and prevented sight of land for a considerable time. The wind continued to increase in violence, but the snow ceased falling for a little, when it was discovered that they had been driven past the mouth of the Firth of Forth and were now in St Andrews Bay.
They then close-reefed their sails, and made all snug; and Captain Dundas, declaring that they should have to encounter a strong south-easter, all their efforts were directed to double the headland of Fifeness and the dreaded Carr Rock, and get into the Forth; but their utmost endeavours were unavailing, so that the best part of a day was spent in tacking and veering to, close in with the land, to no purpose.
The sun set angrily, and the wind veering more adversely, to their utter dismay, brought them on a lee shore. The storm increased with the night. The snow began again to fall, and neither the stars nor the lights of Tay or of the Firth could be seen. The sea was lashed into tremendous fury. There was a fearful sullen sound of rushing waves and broken surges—"Deep called unto deep." At times the black volume of clouds overhead seemed rent asunder by flashes of lightning that quivered along the foaming billows, and made the succeeding darkness doubly terrible. The thunders bellowed over the wild waste of waters, and were echoed and prolonged by the mountain-like waves. As the ship was seen staggering and plunging among these roaring caverns, it seemed miraculous that she regained her balance, or preserved her buoyancy. Her yards dipped into the water—her bow was buried almost beneath the waves. Sometimes an impending surge appeared ready to overwhelm her, and nothing but a dexterous movement of the helm preserved her from the shock.
"The impervious horrors of a leeward shore" they were doomed to experience during a moonless and starless night. They reduced their sails to a few yards of canvass, and lowered their yards on deck. The waves, that rolled the vessel with irresistible force, threatened to swallow them up; a tremendous sea carried away the boat which was hoisted up at the stern, and broke in all the bulkheads of the quarters. For safety of lives and property, all hands, after being revived with a glass of rum, began to throw overboard the guns. The long-boat was then released from her lashings; and, as they wished, the waves soon swept her from the deck. The two large anchors were cut from the bows, and the vessel, thus eased of a heavy top-load, danced more lightly over the tremendous billows, and inspired them with fresh hopes. The crew were all ordered to the after part of the deck, and again refreshed with another glass of rum and water.
A little before daylight, the captain, who had been anxiously looking out, acquainted the officers, so as not to be heard by the crew, that he saw breakers nearly ahead, and had no thought of being able to weather them. Mr Gordon coincided in this opinion, to which some one said, "Well, we are all born to die; I shall go with regret, but certainly not with fear."
The breakers were soon visible to all the crew, being not more than a quarter of a mile distant on the lee bow, when Captain Dundas remarked, "Our only chance is to put away a point before the wind, or we are sure to go broadside into the surf and perish at once."
A heavy sea now struck the vessel, swept the deck fore and aft, and carried overboard five of the crew, who instantly sank to rise no more.
The captain seeing a mighty billow approaching, and viewing nothing but death before them, exclaimed, "Lord have mercy upon us," and at that moment the vessel rose upon a mountain wave to a tremendous height, from whose summit she descended with the velocity of lightning, as if she were going to bury herself in the remorseless deep. By this rapid movement she was precipitated beyond the reach of the breakers, which now rolled behind her stern, and burst in impotence, as if incensed at the loss of their destined prey. "We are safe!" exclaimed Captain Dundas; "jump, men, from the yards, and make sail." This they did with tumultuous joy, which Mr Gordon checked, and said to them, "Whilst you are working silently, thank God for your miraculous preservation." The sea upon which the vessel rose was the means of her preservation and that of her crew. Probably there was not, if the sea had been calm, a depth of two feet water on the Carr Rock, for it was that dangerous reef she had passed; but the mighty wave carried her safe over at a moment when every hope but that of immortality was gone from the minds of the ship's company.[I]