Hurricane Hurry

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“I know’d it would be so,” exclaimed old Grampus, throwing down his hat and almost blubbering outright. “The dear old barkie, there’s an end on her. I know’d she was to have ill-luck from the time we first came inside them Capes of Virginia; but I didn’t think, that I didn’t, that she’d have been blown to blazes by them infernal hot iron balls, which to my mind ain’t fit for Christians to make use on, that they ain’t. Well, there was we a-waiting for a boat to get aboard her, though I didn’t think there was much use, seeing she was in a blaze from stem to stern. In a few minutes the flames licked and coiled themselves up round the masts and spars till they reached the mast-heads, and then she broke adrift from her moorings, and, not content with getting burnt herself, what should she do but drive aboard a transport which she set on fire, and then there the two were burning away together, without the power of mortal man to stop them. The enemy were still commanding them, while our old barkie, to show that she was game to the last, kept firing away her own guns as long as one of them remained mounted, and then up she went in a shower of sparks and flames, and wasn’t long in burning to the water’s edge.”

The master’s mate told me that, notwithstanding the circumstances Nol had described, he could scarcely restrain him and the other men from shoving off to get aboard the frigate. The inconvenience we suffered, the loss of our things, was not to be compared to our regret for the destruction, (for her rate), of one of the finest ships in the Navy. Scenes almost indescribable of distress and death, misery and suffering, now crowd around us on every side.

This evening the enemy, having mounted more of his artillery, totally silenced Number 5 battery commanded by the first lieutenant of the Charon, the shot and shells having torn up his platforms and dismounted his guns. He, with his men, was therefore obliged to quit it. At ten o’clock at night the enemy under cover of their guns made a general attack from the centre to the left, but were again repulsed. Twice I witnessed the Hessians give way before the enemy in front of my works. The cannonade continued all night with a warmth hitherto unsurpassed. The slaughter in all parts of the town was very great. We were occasionally employed in restoring the works which the enemy had knocked down. Not a moment was there for rest; every man was employed either in fighting or toiling with pickaxe or shovel. Many parts of the town were set on fire, a lurid glare being cast over the whole scene, exposing to sight the falling buildings, the brave garrison working their guns or labouring in the trenches, the wounded carried off on litters, the dead strewed about in every direction; the whole to my idea presenting a picture more awful and terrific than any I had ever yet beheld; yet I had seen, as may be remembered, in my day a good deal of hard fighting.

11th.—No words of mine can properly describe the dreadful condition to which our small but brave garrison was reduced. The enemy this evening began their second parallel by which they advanced three hundred yards nearer to us. Their fire continued incessant from heavy artillery and mortars, and we opened fresh embrasures to flank their works, keeping up a constant fire from all the howitzers and small mortars were possessed. Upwards of a thousand shells were thrown into the works this night, and every spot alike became dangerous. To talk of the thundering of the cannon, the cries of the wounded, and the shrieks and distressing gestures of the inhabitants, whose dwellings were in flames, and knew not where to seek for safety, will but give a faint picture of what was taking place. Yet amidst all this havoc, destruction, and suffering, the known scarcity of everything necessary to prolong the siege, no murmuring was heard. Not a wish was expressed to give up the town while the most distant hope remained of our being relieved. On the contrary, our gallant little army, taking example from their chief, exhibited the most undaunted resolution, and hourly gave proof of their attachment to the noble general who had so often led them on to victory in the field. One man there is, and one only, who may well tremble at the result. Often do I think of him and what his fate will be if the place is taken by assault. Yet, strange to say, he appears as cool and fearless as the rest. On this night the enemy burnt several transports with red-hot shot and sunk two others from a battery on the left. The inhabitants who still remained in the town, and other non-combatants, were now living in holes under the cliffs or along the shore by the river side. Even there, however, they were not safe, the shot finding them out in their places of refuge and destroying numbers of them. My great anxiety was for Colonel Carlyon. He was recovering from his wounds, but I dreaded lest a stray shot or shell might penetrate the hospital, and that he might share the fate of so many of our own people. I sent him a message whenever I had an opportunity, and received many kind expressions from him in return.

12th.—At eight o’clock this morning the enemy sunk one of the fire-ships from a fresh battery thrown up during the night. All day a hot fire was kept up from it which almost completed the destruction of the shipping intended for the defence of the town against an attack by sea.

At nine o’clock the chief officer of artillery waited on the commodore with a message from Lord Cornwallis, requesting that the lieutenants of the navy with their men should move on from the right into the hornwork on the left, which the crews of the transports had quitted in consequence of the heavy fire to which it was exposed. It was every instant expected that the enemy would storm the works. Hearing this, I immediately volunteered to work this battery, and set off for it accordingly, with a midshipman and thirty-six seamen, it being understood that I was to be relieved in eight hours by the first lieutenant. In fifty-two minutes after my arrival in the hornwork the enemy silenced the three left guns by closing the embrasures, and shortly afterwards they dismounted a twelve-pounder, knocked off the muzzles of two eighteens, and for the last hour and a half of the time I had undertaken to hold the post left me with one eighteen-pounder. Although even a part of its muzzle also was shot away, I kept up a fire with it, determining to hold out to the last. My poor fellows were falling thick around me. Numbers had been wounded; scarcely one had escaped; eight had been killed. Tom Rockets had received a bad injury on one arm; still he worked away with the other, helping as best he could to load and fire the gun. The midshipman, Nol Grampus, and I were the only men in the battery uninjured. Old Nol stood as upright and undaunted as ever. The gun had just been loaded; he held the match in his hand; he was about to fire. At that instant I saw a shell pitching into the battery. Our gun went off. Its roar seemed louder than before. At the same instant there was the noise of the bursting of the shell. I was covered with dust and smoke. It cleared away, but when I looked out for Grampus, expecting to see him at the gun, he was gone. A little way off lay a mangled form. I ran up. It was that of my old faithful follower and friend. He knew me, but he was breathing out his last.

“I knowed it would be so, Mr Hurry,” he whispered, as I stooped down over him. “When I saw the old barkie go I knowed that the days of many on us was numbered. I’d have like to have seen the war ended, and you, Mr Hurry, made happy. Bless you, my boy, bless you! You’ve always showed your love for the old seaman. Well, it’s all right. I don’t fear to die. He who rules up aloft knows what’s best. He will have mercy on a poor ignorant sailor who trusts on One who came on earth to save him. That’s my religion. You stick to that, boy! I can’t see. I’m cold, very cold.”

I took my old friend’s hand. He pressed it faintly. “Thank ye, thank ye,” I thought he said. His lips moved for a few moments, then suddenly he fell back. A shudder passed through his frame, and he was gone. A better or a braver seaman than Nol Grampus never died fighting for his sovereign’s cause.

I had to spring up and help work the gun, for another of my poor fellows was just knocked over. I looked at my watch. It was the time my relief should arrive, and time it was, for the midshipman and I were the only two now remaining unhurt. Out of the thirty-six men who followed me into the battery nine lay dead, eight more were breathing out their last on the ground, and of the nineteen others most had lost either an arm or a leg.

At last my brother-officer with some men appeared. He stood aghast, as well he might, at the spectacle presented to him. As he was approaching me a shell fell in the space between us, sending its fragments in every direction. I felt that I was wounded, and, staggering back, I fell to the ground. My brother-officer ran to lift me up. I found that I had been struck on the right leg and received a severe contusion on the head, but in a few minutes I was able to stand. The midshipman also was wounded in the arm by the same shell, and he and I were the only two people able to walk out of the battery. Of the others several died before they were removed. I left it at a quarter-past six, and on my way past the redoubt, where he had been the greater part of the time, I received the thanks of my Lord Cornwallis for what he was pleased to call my gallantry and determination.