UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE KENT EAST INDIAMAN.
Good evening, Uncle Thomas! We were very much interested with the
account you gave us of the Mutiny of the Bounty. As we came along we
were thinking what a shocking thing it would be for a ship to take fire
at sea. Do such misfortunes ever take place, Uncle Thomas?
Yes, boys, they do, though much less frequently than one would expect.
The sailors are very careful, and are prohibited from using lights
after certain hours. I can tell you about the loss of a large East
Indiaman, which caught fire in the Bay of Biscay, and was completely
destroyed.
Oh! do let us hear it, Uncle Thomas!
On the 19th February, 1825, the Kent, a fine new vessel, commanded by
Captain Henry Cobb, bound for Bengal and China, left the Downs. She had
on board a crew of one hundred and forty-eight men, including officers,
with twenty military officers, three hundred and forty-four soldiers,
forty-three women, and sixty-six children, belonging to the 31st
regiment, and twenty private passengers; making in all six hundred and
forty-one persons.
The Kent proceeded prosperously on her voyage until the night of the
28th February, when her progress was arrested by a violent gale from
the west, which gradually increased during the following morning. So
violent was the storm, that at every lurch the main chains of the
vessel were considerably under water, and the various articles of
furniture were dashed about the cabin with such noise and violence, as
to excite the liveliest apprehensions of danger.
The utmost activity of the officers and crew of the Kent was called
into exercise, and everything was done in order to secure the safety of
the vessel. In the course of his duty, one of the officers went into
the hold, accompanied by a couple of sailors, in order to see that all
was fast. They carried with them a patent lantern, and seeing that the
lamp burned dimly, the officer took the precaution to hand it up to the
deck to be trimmed. Having discovered that one of the spirit casks had
broken loose from its fastenings, he sent the sailors for some billets
of wood to secure it; but the ship in their absence having made a
heavy lurch, the officer unfortunately dropped the lamp, and letting
go his hold of the cask, in his eagerness to recover the lantern, it
suddenly stove, and the spirits communicating with the flame, the whole
place was instantly in a blaze.
So long as the flames appeared to be confined to the spot where the
fire originated, which was surrounded on all sides by water casks,
hopes were entertained that it might be subdued; but no sooner was the
light blue vapor, that at first arose, succeeded by volumes of thick
dingy smoke, which, speedily ascending through all the four hatchways,
rolled over every part of the ship, than almost all hope of saving
the vessel was abandoned. "The flames have reached the cable tier!"
was exclaimed by some individuals; and the strong pitchy smell that
pervaded the deck, soon confirmed the truth of the exclamation.
In these awful circumstances, Captain Cobb, with an ability and
decision of character that seemed to increase with the imminence of the
danger, resorted to the fearful experiment of ordering the lower decks
to be scuttled, and the lower port-holes of the vessel to be opened,
for the free admission of the waves.
These orders were speedily executed, but not before several of the
unhappy passengers had perished from suffocation. So dense and
oppressive was the smoke, that it was with the greatest difficulty any
person could remain long enough below deck to execute the captain's
wishes, but no sooner were they accomplished, than the sea rushed in
with extraordinary force, carrying before it the largest chests,
bulk-heads, and other weighty articles. The immense quantity of water
thus introduced, had the effect of checking the fury of the flames for
a time, but a new source of danger suddenly opened upon them--the ship
becoming water-logged, and seemed in danger of going down.
The scene of horror that now presented itself almost baffles
description. The upper deck was covered with between 600 and 700 human
beings, many of whom, from previous sea-sickness, were forced, on the
first alarm, to flee from below, in a state of absolute nakedness, and
were now running about in quest of husbands, children or parents. While
some were standing in silent resignation, or in stupid insensibility,
to their impending fate, others were yielding themselves up to frantic
despair. Some on their knees were earnestly imploring the mercy of Him
whose arm, they exclaimed, was at length outstretched to smite them;
others were to be seen hastily crossing themselves, and performing
various external acts required by their particular persuasion; while
a number of the older and more stouthearted soldiers and sailors took
their seats directly over the powder magazine,--hoping, as they stated,
that by means of the explosion which they every instant expected, a
speedier termination might be put to their sufferings.
All hope had departed, and the employment of the different individuals
indicated an utter despair of rescue. One was to be seen thoughtfully
removing a lock of hair from his writing-desk to his bosom, and another
officer, procuring paper, addressed a short communication to his
father, which he afterwards carefully enclosed in a bottle, in the hope
that it might eventually reach its destination, and relieve him from
the long years of fruitless anxiety and suspense, which the melancholy
fate which hung over him might awaken. At this appalling instant, when
all hope of being saved was taken away, it occurred to Mr. Thompson,
the fourth mate, to send a man to the fore-top, rather with the ardent
wish that some friendly sail might be descried on the face of the
waters, than with any expectation that it would be realized. For a
moment the sailor who ascended threw his eyes around the horizon--a
moment of unutterable suspense--and then, waving his hat, exclaimed,
"A sail, on the lee bow!" The joyful announcement was received with
heartfelt thanksgivings, and answered by three loud cheers from those
on deck; the signals of distress were instantly hoisted, minute-guns
fired, and endeavors made, under three topsails and foresail, to bear
down upon the stranger, which proved to be the Cambria, a small brig of
two hundred tons burthen, commanded by Captain Cook, and bound to Vera
Cruz, having on board twenty or thirty Cornish miners, and some agents
of the Anglo-Mexican company.
For ten or fifteen agonizing minutes, the crew of the Kent were in
doubt whether the brig perceived their signals, or, perceiving them,
was either disposed or able to give them any assistance. From the
violence of the gale, as they afterwards learned, the report of the
guns was not heard, but the ascending volumes of smoke from the ship
sufficiently announced the dreadful nature of their distress; and
after a short period of the greatest suspense, they saw the brig hoist
British colours, and crowd all sail to hasten to their relief.
While the vessel was approaching, arrangements were made for getting
out the boats, so as to have all in readiness so soon as she came
within a reasonable distance. Before hoisting out the boat, it was
filled with the officers' ladies and the female passengers, and as
many of the soldiers' wives as it could safely carry. They hurriedly
wrapped themselves in whatever articles of clothing they could first
lay their hands on; and, at about half past two o'clock, a most
mournful procession advanced from the after-cabins to the starboard
cuddy-port, from the outside of which the cutter was suspended. Not a
sound was heard--not a syllable was uttered--even the infants ceased
to cry, as though conscious of the unspoken anguish that was rending
the hearts of their parting parents; nor did aught occur to break the
solemn stillness of the scene, save in one or two instances, when the
ladies plaintively entreated to be left behind with their husbands; but
being assured that every moment's delay might occasion the sacrifice
of life, they successively suffered themselves to be torn from the
tender embrace; and, with a fortitude which never fails to characterize
and adorn their sex on occasions of overwhelming trial, were placed,
without a murmur, in the boat, which was immediately lowered into so
tempestuous a sea, as to leave them only to hope against hope, that
it should live in it for a single moment. Twice the cry was heard from
those on the chains that the boat was swamping; but He who enabled the
apostle Peter to walk on the face of the deep, was graciously attending
to the silent, but earnest, aspirations of those on board, and had
decreed its safety.
Although every precaution was taken to diminish the danger of the
boat's descent--a man having been stationed at each end, with an
axe, ready to cut the ropes, in case of any difficulty occurring in
unhooking it from the tackle by which it was lowered--yet the extreme
difficulty of the operation had nearly proved fatal to the whole of its
precious cargo. After one or two unsuccessful attempts had been made
to place the little frail bark fairly upon the surface of the water,
the command was given to unhook: the stern tackle was immediately
cleared, but the ropes at the bow having got foul, the sailors there
found it impossible to obey the order. In vain was the axe applied to
the entangled tackle. The moment was inconceivably critical, as the
boat, necessarily following the motions of the ship, was gradually
rising out of the water, and must in another instant have been hanging
perpendicularly by the bow, and its helpless passengers precipitated
into the sea, had not a wave providentially struck the stern and lifted
it up, so as to enable the seamen to clear the tackle; and the boat,
being dexterously disentangled from the ship, was soon seen battling
with the billows in its progress to the brig--one instant like a speck
upon their summit, and then disappearing for several seconds, as if
engulfed in the horrid vale between them.
The Cambria having prudently lain at some distance from the Kent,
lest she should be involved in her explosion, or exposed to the fire
of the guns, which, being all shotted, afterwards went off as they
were successively reached by the flames, the boat had a considerable
distance to row. The interval of its leaving the Kent, and its arrival
at the side of the Cambria, was a time of most intense interest; at
length, however, it reached her in safety, and the inmates, one after
another, arrived on board.
It being impossible for the boats, after the first trip, to come
alongside the Kent, a plan was adopted for lowering the women and
children by ropes from the stern, by tying them two-and-two together.
But from the heaving of the ship, and the extreme difficulty of
dropping them at the instant the boat was underneath, many of the poor
creatures were unavoidably plunged repeatedly under water: all the
women, from their superior strength, were happily able to endure this
rough usage, but, unfortunately, several children fell victims.
Amid the conflicting feelings and dispositions manifested by the
numerous actors in this melancholy drama, many affecting proofs
were elicited of parental and filial affection, or of disinterested
friendship, that seemed to shed a momentary halo around the gloomy
scene.
Two or three soldiers, to relieve their wives of a part of their
families, sprang into the water with their children, and perished in
their endeavors to save them. One young lady, who had resolutely
refused to leave her father, whose sense of duty kept him at his
post, was very near falling a sacrifice to her filial devotion, not
having been picked up by those in the boats until she had sunk five
or six times. Another individual, who was reduced to the frightful
alternative of losing his wife or his children, hastily decided in
favor of his duty to the former: his wife accordingly was saved, and
four fine children, alas! left to perish. One fine fellow, a soldier,
who had neither wife nor child of his own, but who evinced the greatest
solicitude for the safety of those of others, insisted on having three
children lashed to him, with whom he plunged into the water; but not
being able to reach the boat, he was drawn back again into the ship,
yet not before two of the children had expired. One man fell down the
hatchway into the flames. But the numerous instances of individual loss
and suffering were not confined to the commencement of the perilous
voyage between the two vessels: one man, who fell between the boat and
the brig, had his head literally crushed; while some were lost in their
attempts to ascend the sides of the Cambria.
As the day was drawing to a close, and the flames were now slowly, but
perceptibly, extending, the gallant commanders felt increased anxiety
for the safety of the remainder of the brave men under their charge.
To facilitate this object a rope was suspended from the extremity of
the spanker-boom, which projects from sixteen to eighteen feet over the
stern, and, in such a large ship as the Kent, on ordinary occasions
rests about nineteen or twenty feet above the water. In order more
readily to reach the boats, and to prevent the danger of their being
stove by approaching too close to the vessel, the men were directed
to proceed along the boom and slide down by the rope. But as from the
great swell of the sea, it was impossible for the boats to retain their
station for a moment, most of those who adopted this course, were
either left for a time swinging in mid-air, or plunged into the sea,
and perhaps violently flung against the boat as it once more approached
to their rescue.
At length, when nearly every person was removed, and when those only
remained whom fear had so overcome as to prevent their availing
themselves of the means of escape, even at the urgent request of
those in the boats, Captain Cobb quitted the ill-fated vessel, and
shortly after the boat in which he was reached the Cambria, the flames,
which had spread along the upper deck of the Kent, ascended with the
rapidity of lightning to the masts and rigging, forming one general
conflagration, and illuminating the heavens to an immense distance,
until the masts, one by one successively, fell like stately steeples
over the ship's side. At last, about half-past one in the morning, the
fire communicated to the powder magazine, the long-threatened explosion
took place, and the fragments of the magnificent Kent were instantly
hurried, like so many rockets, high into the air.
The Cambria now made all sail to the nearest port, and, though the
violence of the gale continued, she arrived at Falmouth shortly after
midnight on the 3d of March, when her unfortunate crew were received
with the utmost kindness by the inhabitants, and their wants instantly
attended to.
Were those that remained on board the Kent all lost, Uncle Thomas?
No, not the whole of them, boys. Wonderful to relate, the flames
and the explosion attracted the notice of the crew of another ship,
named the Caroline, on her passage from Alexandria to Liverpool, who
immediately set their sails and bore down upon the wreck. They were
fortunately in time to save twelve persons whom they found floating
about on a mast. The captain of the Caroline, with the greatest
humanity, remained in the neighborhood all night, in the hope of
assisting any who might have taken refuge on other parts of the wreck.
In the morning they rescued two more of the unfortunate survivers,
being all that they could discover, from the floating masses of wreck.
But the sky beginning to assume a stormy aspect, the boat which had
been sent out was forced to return to the ship, which once more
proceeded on her voyage.
Was rum the cause of this sad disaster, Uncle Thomas?
Yes, my boys, rum did all the mischief.
Then we will have no rum on board of our ship, when we are men, will
we, John? for it is of no use, father says.