The silent plague through the green timber eats,
And vomits out a tardy flame by fits;
Down to the keels, and upwards to the sails,
The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails;
Nor buckets pour'd, nor strength of human hand,
Can the victorious element withstand.
DRYDEN'S Æneid, Book V.
The luckless ship was now wrapped in flames from amidships to taffrail, and the scene of horror is beyond the powers of description. Hundreds of human beings were assembled together on the forecastle, bowsprit, and sprit-sail-yard. No boat had yet come to their assistance. Their perilous situation had levelled all distinction of rank; men and officers were huddled together, watching with despairing hearts the progress of the fiery element, which threatened to hurry them so quickly into eternity. Volumes of black smoke rose in huge pillars from all parts of the ship, whilst far above the hissing and crackling of the flames, as they ricked the masts and rigging, rose the shrieks and death yells of the hapless men, who, unable to gain the forecastle, had sought safety aloft, where the flames had now reached them.
Some, rather than endure the horrible suspense, trusted themselves to the mercy of the waves, and by plunging overboard, ended their lives and sufferings in a watery grave. Many, in their agony, fell on their knees, imploring God for that help which they despaired of receiving from mortal agency. Perhaps these men would not have thought of prayer to heaven in face of a human foe, but now that the 'last enemy' glared upon them in so fearful a shape, they felt compelled to fly to Him who hath said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble.'
The booming of the guns, as they exploded, echoed far and wide over the waters, and added to the horrors of that awful night.
In the midst of his people stood the captain, endeavouring to sustain their sinking spirits, and exhorting them to be firm and to depend upon the boats which were now heaving in sight. He then bade them farewell, and sprung into the sea; he breasted the waves for a length of time, but his strength was nearly exhausted, when, happily, he was seen, and picked up by one of the boats of the Canopus.
As the boats from the squadron neared the Ajax, the agonizing fears of the sufferers were changed into wild transports of joy; so sudden was the transition from despair to hope, that many of the crew lost all self-possession, and perished by jumping into the sea in their impatience to reach the boats.
Such details as these, showing the effects of fear upon untutored minds, make us thankful that a great change for the better has been effected within the last forty years with respect to the religious and moral instruction of our sailors.
Every ship's company is exposed to casualties similar to that which befel the crew of the Ajax,—to shipwreck, fire, and sudden destruction,—and no man will deny that in times of extreme peril, a calm and composed mind is the greatest of blessings—the want of it, the greatest misery. Few will be sceptical enough to deny, on the other hand, that the best security for such composure, in a moment of unforeseen danger, or of unlooked-for deliverance, is a firm and sure trust that there is a God above, who 'ruleth over all;' whom the winds and the sea obey, and who is 'mighty to save,' even in the hour of man's direst extremity. To instil this knowledge and trust into the hearts of our seamen, and by it to make them both better men, and better sailors, should be the chief object of every improvement in education.
Lieut. Willoughby, of the St. George, had hastened in a cutter to assist the crew of the Ajax, and he very soon rescued as many men as his boat could carry. Numbers, however, were still surrounding him, who, for the safety of those in the already overladen boat, were, with much reluctance, left to their fate. Fortunately some launches and a barge arrived in time to pick them up, and convey them to the different ships of the squadron.
The Ajax all this time was drifting towards the island of Tenedos, with her stern and broadside alternately presented to the wind. The humane exertions of Lieutenant Willoughby had been twice crowned with success; his boat was, for the third time, nearly filled with people, when he observed the Ajax round to, and that several men were hanging by ropes under her head. He resolved, at all hazards, to rescue these poor fellows before she again fell off. Dashing, therefore, towards her, he succeeded in the first part of his object, but not until the vessel was again before the wind, flames issuing from every part of both hull and rigging, and with the cutter across her hawse.