Those on the beach gave a shout, which we replied to from the deck. A hawser was made fast to the line, and secured on shore. It was not until now that we began to hope; and with this hope arose an anxiety on the part of every one to save what they could. I strove to reach my chest, in which were a pair of new shoes and five guineas, but my efforts, like those of the others, were vain; our under decks were flooded several inches, and everything was loose and knocking about in the most furious manner, from the rolling and pitching of the vessel upon the rocks, so that I was but too happy to reach the decks without being crushed to death. All I regretted was my shoes; the money I cared not for, and do not think I would have taken it, as we expected to be plundered as soon as we got to the beach.
After a great deal of fatigue, we all got safe to land, and now the plundering began. There were no regular soldiers on the spot, but a great many of the peasantry had firelocks and bayonets, and stood over us, stripping those of the men, who had them, of their jackets and hats. At first, we were disposed to resist, but soon found it to be of no use. One of the fellows seized the chain of the watch belonging to one of our men, and was in the act of pulling it from the pocket, when the owner, Jack Smith, struck him to the ground with a blow of his fist. The next moment poor Smith lay a lifeless corpse upon the sand, felled by a stroke from the butt end of a musket.
There was no one present who seemed to have or who assumed any authority, to whom our officers might appeal for protection; they were not more respected than the men; all were searched and robbed as soon as they arrived from the wreck. Poor Smith's fate taught us submission, even while our bosoms burned with a desire for vengeance. One of my messmates said aloud—"I would cheerfully stand before the muzzle of one of the old Repulse's thirty-twos, were she charged to the mouth with grape well laid, to sweep these French robbers from the face of the earth." As for myself, they took nothing from me. I had twopence in the pocket of my trousers; when I saw what was going on, I took it out and held it in my hand while they searched me. I more than once thought they were going to strip me of my nether garments, and give me in exchange a pair of their own gun-mouthed rags, which would scarcely have reached my knees; for several of them looked at them as if they felt inclined to make the exchange; but I escaped, and felt thankful.
We stood for several hours shivering upon the beach without food, fire, or water, while the plunderers were busy picking up anything that drifted ashore, but still keeping a strict watch over us; at length, the chief magistrate of a neighbouring small town arrived, and to him our officers complained of the usage we had received. He only shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders, when the body of Smith was pointed out to him. What could we do? A grave was dug for him on the spot where he was murdered, and we were marched off into the interior. It was well on in the afternoon before we reached the place where we were to halt. It was a small poverty-stricken-like town, with an old ruinous church and churchyard, surrounded by high walls, with an iron gate close by. Into this chill, desolate place, we were crowded by the soldiers, the gate locked upon us, and sentinels placed around the building. Here we remained until the evening, when there was served out to every man a small loaf, black as mud; yet, black as it was, I never ate a sweeter morsel; for neither I nor any of my companions had tasted any food since the evening before.
But how shall I express the horror we felt when we found we were to remain where we were, in this old, ruined charnel-house of a church, which could scarcely contain us all, unless we stood close together. To lie down was out of the question; and, although we could, there were neither straw, blankets, nor covering of any kind, to screen us from the cold. We implored in vain to be removed; but these privations, bad as they were, did not annoy us so much as the idea of spending the long dark night in such a miserable place. By far the greater number of us believed as firmly in the reality of ghosts as we did in our own existence; and, of all places in the world, a church and churchyard, from time immemorial, have been their favourite haunts, and the terror of all who believe in their reality—even those who affect to disbelieve in the visits of spirits to this earth, feel sensations which they would not choose to own, when in a churchyard, in a dark night, with gravestones and crumbling human bones around them. Of all men seamen are the most superstitious, and give the most ready credence to ghost stories. The unmanning feeling of fear, that had not touched a single heart in the extremity of our danger from the storm, was now strongly marked in every face, exaggerated by a horror of we knew not what. Fear is contagious—we huddled together, and peered fearfully around, expecting every moment to see some appalling vision or hear some dreadful sound. Our sense of hearing was painfully acute—the smallest noise made us start; but our feelings were too much racked to remain long at the same intensity—they gradually became more obtuse as the night wore on, until we at length began to entertain each other with fearful stories of ghosts; feeling a strange satisfaction in increasing the gloomy excitement under which we laboured. Had any of us begun a humorous story, with the view of diverting our thoughts from their present bent, and the circumstances we were in, I am certain he would have been silenced in no gentle manner.
We might have been about two hours or less in this state, in the most intense darkness—our own whispers being all that we could recognise of each other, even although in contact—when a low pleasant murmur suddenly fell upon our ears: It was the voice of Dick Bates, who, having either been requested, or, moved by his present situation, had, of his own accord, commenced singing in an under tone his favourite ballad of "Hozier's Ghost." Now, Dick was the best singer in the whole crew, with a voice like a singing bird; it was at this moment so low that, had it been broad daylight, he would have appeared only to have been breathing hard; yet it was at this time distinctly heard by all, and made our flesh creep upon our bones, although a strange kind of pleasure was mingled with the feeling. We scarcely breathed when he came to the lines—
"With three thousand ghosts beside him,
And in groans did Vernon hail—
Heed, O heed my fatal story,
I am Hozier's injured Ghost."
I thought the whole was present before me, and I could see the scene the poet described, and shuddered when he breathed forth—
"See these ghastly spectres sweeping
Mournful o'er this hated wave,
Whose pale cheeks are stained with weeping—
These were English captains brave.
"See these numbers pale and horrid!
These were once my seamen bold.
Lo! each hangs his drooping forehead
While his mournful tale is told."
I believe there was not a man in the old church who did not think he saw the ghastly train of spectres flitting before his eyes, and who did not feel every nerve thrill, and every hair of his head stand on end. Many were the tales of superstition and of terror related, until overpowered nature sank into sleep; but I have since often reflected that, of all the accounts of fearful sights I heard, they were all related at second hand, from the authority of others. No one asserted they themselves had ever seen anything out of the ordinary course of nature except Bob Nelson, and his was calculated to lead a more prejudiced observer astray. It was as follows—