Narratives of Shipwrecks of the Royal Navy; between 1793 and 1849

by William O. S. Gilly

Captain Burgess was on deck in a moment; he ordered the helm to be put 'hard a-port,' and was told it had been done. The next instant the jib-booms and bowsprit were heard to crash; the captain hastened to the gangway, and was just in time to see the foremast go. Scarcely had he called to the men to stand clear, when all the three masts fell aft, one after the other, covering the deck with masts, yards, sails, and rigging, and in their fall killing some and dreadfully mangling others. Within a few feet of the ship rose a stupendous black rock, against which the surf was raging violently. The rock was so perpendicular, that both the fore and main yardarms were (before they fell) scraping against the granite cliff. The hull, however, did not appear to come in contact with the rock; but, as if answering the helm, her head turned off shore, and as she swung round, the larboard quarter boat was completely smashed between the ship's side and the rock. Nothing could exceed the alarm that prevailed on board for a few minutes after the sudden crash. The decks were covered with spars and rigging, lying pell-mell upon the bodies of those who had been injured by their fall. The man at the helm had been killed at his post, and the wheel itself was shivered to atoms; whilst the darkness of the night, and the roar of the breakers against the cliff, added to the horrors of a catastrophe of which the suddenness alone was sufficient to paralyse the energies of the men.

Captain Burgess saw that everything depended upon promptitude and decision: he quickly rallied his people, and order was soon restored: he then gave directions that the well should be sounded, and that the men should stand by the small bower anchor.

A sentinel was placed to guard the spirit-room, and two small sails were run up the fore and main-masts, the stumps of which were from twelve to fifteen feet above the deck, and the helm was put to starboard. The winches were next manned, and guns, rockets, and blue lights let off in rapid succession.

The well was reported dry; orders were given for the small bower anchor to be let go, but it was found covered with the wreck of the bowsprit, and it was necessary to cut away the best bower in order to keep the ship off shore; and for the same purpose every spar that could be obtained was made use of to bear her off the rocky cliffs, but in vain, for from the depth of the water, the anchor did not reach the bottom, and the stern tailed upon a shelving rock in spite of all their efforts. The men were next ordered to clear away the boats and get them ready—but they were found totally destroyed. Those on the quarters had been smashed by the rocks, and those on the booms and stern by the falling of the masts. During the whole of this anxious period, the conduct of the men was most exemplary. Aware that all depended upon individual exertion, each one appeared to emulate the example set by his officers, and worked with hearty good will; not a single instance of anything like bad conduct occurred.

Their condition was most disheartening; the boats were no longer available; the water was gaining on the vessel; and the rockets and blue lights, as they darted into the air, served but to show them the rugged face of the high rocks, which appeared to afford no footing by which the summit could be gained, even if they should be so fortunate as to reach them at all.

Whilst all on board were weighing these chances of destruction or of safety, the vessel's head had gone round off, and a few succeeding heavy surfs threw her again with her starboard quarter upon the rock, and whilst she was in this position, there appeared a possibility of getting some of the people on shore. Captain Burgess, therefore, ordered Lieutenant Hamilton to do everything in his power to facilitate such a proceeding, and shortly afterwards that officer, Mr. Mends, midshipman, and about seventy others, effected a landing by jumping either from the broken end of the mainyard, which was lying across the ship, or from the hammock netting abaft the mizenmast; several others who attempted to land in the same way were less fortunate; some were crushed to death, and some drawn back by the recoil of the surf and drowned.

From the time the ship first struck, the current had been carrying her along the cliffs at the rate of at least a quarter of a mile an hour; it now carried her off the rock, and she drifted along shore, a helpless wreck, at the mercy of the winds and waves. The captain saw that nothing more could be done for the vessel, and therefore he directed all his energies to the preservation of the crew. The marine who had been appointed to guard the spirit-room still remained at his post, and never left it till commanded to do so by his superior officer, even after the water had burst open the hatch. We mention this as an instance of the effect of good discipline in times of the greatest peril.

The vessel, or rather the wreck, was now carried towards a small cove, into which she happily drifted; she struck heavily against the rocks, then gave some tremendous yauls, and gradually sunk until nothing was left above water but the bows, the broken bowsprit, and the wreck of the masts as they laid on the booms.

All on board deemed that the crisis of their fate had arrived,—and they prepared for the final struggle between life and death. There were some moments of awful suspense, for every lurch the ill-fated vessel gave, was expected to be the last; but when she seemed to sink no deeper, there came the hope that her keel had touched the bottom, and that they should not all he engulfed in a watery grave.

Before she sunk, the frigate's bows had gone so close into the rocks as to enable some sixty or seventy people to jump on shore; and a hawser was got out and fixed to a rock, by which several others were saved; but by a tremendous surge, the piece of rock to which the hawser was fastened was broken away, and for a time all communication with the land was suspended. They tried every means that could be devised to convey a rope from the ship to the land, but for a long time without success, until Mr. Geach, the boatswain, swung himself on the stump of the bowsprit, and by making fast two belaying pins to the end of a line, he succeeded in throwing it on shore. To this a stronger cable was bent, and it was dragged through the surf by the people on the rocks, who then kept it taut.