UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE WINTERTON EAST INDIAMAN.
Good evening, boys. I am glad to see you so early. I have "a long yarn
to spin" to-night, as the sailors say; though fortunately it contains
fewer horrors than that of last evening. The strife of the elements is
in deed as strong, but the angry passions of man--more dreadful than
the fiercest storm--form no part of the tale.
I am glad of it, Uncle Thomas. The shocking conduct of the mutineers
on board the raft, after leaving the Medusa, of which you told us last
night, makes me shudder when I think of it.
Intoxicating drinks, my boys, often make men mad. The tale which I am
going to tell you this evening, is that of the loss of the Winterton,
an East Indiaman, which was wrecked on the Island of Madagascar, on her
passage to India. The Winterton sailed from England in the spring of
1792, and arrived at the Cape of Good Hope in safety. On leaving the
Cape, it was Captain Dundas's intention to have taken what is called
the outer passage to India, but, encountering light, variable winds,
he was obliged to abandon his original design, and bore away for the
Mozambique Channel.
In order to avoid a shoal, which he knew to be somewhat incorrectly
laid down in the charts, Captain Dundas steered east. Thinking he
had sufficiently accomplished this, he altered his course; but had
scarcely sailed in this new direction for three hours, when the ship,
which they supposed to be sixty miles distant from land, struck.
The boats were instantly got out, and on sounding they found deep water
within fifty yards of the stern of the vessel.
Every exertion was made to get her off, but without avail. Day-light
soon disclosed to them the dangers of their situation. The ship had
struck on a reef of rocks, about six miles from land.
As the tide ebbed, the ship beat violently, and began to leak, and
by-and-by the rudder was broken off, and the copper sheathing of the
vessel came up alongside her; but as she lay comparatively quiet, hopes
were entertained that they might succeed in getting her off next tide.
With this view they proceeded to lighten her by every means, throwing
the guns overboard--carrying them to such a distance as to prevent
their injuring the ship as she again rose with the tide. When, however,
they had succeeded in removing about half the number, the sea-breeze
set in fresh, and prevented the boats from approaching the ship's side.
They continued, notwithstanding, to relieve her as much as possible, by
throwing overboard such heavy articles as the tide would carry away. At
high water they renewed their exertions to heave the ship off; but were
again unsuccessful. The leak had by this time gained on the pumps, in
spite of their utmost exertions.
It being evident that the ship was irrecoverably lost, the great
object now was to secure the safety of the passengers and crew. The
masts were cut away, in order to relieve the vessel, and such spars
as the surf prevented being borne away by the tide, were secured for
the purpose of making rafts to assist in conveying the passengers on
shore. In order to prevent such scenes of drunkenness as have sometimes
disgraced shipwrecks, every cask of spirits which could be reached was
staved.
Towards evening, a party was sent on shore in the yawl, to prepare
a convenient place for landing; and the captain addressed the crew,
directing them as to the proper course of procedure on reaching the
shore, and stating his determination to abide by the ship till the
safety of every person on board was secured. This manly address
reanimated the drooping courage of the crew.
During the night the wind increased, and several of the boats were
dashed in pieces by the violence of the surf. Thus deprived of the
means of transporting themselves on shore, and the ship, in the
meantime, beating with such frightful violence against the rocks, as
threatened every instant to break her in pieces, they passed a night of
the greatest consternation and anxiety.
As soon as daylight set in, they began to construct rafts, of such
materials as they could procure. Three or four of these constructions
left the ship, carrying about eighty persons, all of whom succeeded in
reaching the shore. In the meantime the breeze continued to freshen,
till at length it became so violent, that the hawser which held the
ship's stern to the wind parted, and she drove with her broadside on
the rocks, the sea making a complete breach over her. She soon began to
break up, when every one crowded to the-quarter-deck and poop, as the
only place which afforded any chance of safety: in a short time this
retreat also failed, the vessel going completely in pieces. Some of
these were driven on shore in various places, bearing with them such of
the crew as had managed to secure a footing upon them; but the gallant
captain fell a victim to the waves.
For several days, portions of the wreck continued to drift on shore,
generally bringing with them some part of the crew. On gathering the
survivers together, it was found that the captain, the first mate,
three young ladies, and forty-eight seamen, had perished. But the
trials of the survivers were not at an end. The natives, attracted by
the wreck, flocked to the shore, and, seizing on everything of value
that had either been saved or was cast on shore, threatened every one
who opposed them with instant death.
At length they reached Tulliar, the residence of the king of Baba, by
whom they were kindly received. The yawl, which you will recollect had
been sent on shore on the evening previous to the breaking up of the
vessel, was then equipped and despatched to Mozambique, to endeavor to
procure a ship to come to their rescue. After sailing for some days,
they reached the coast of Africa; but being unable to make head against
the northerly winds, they were forced to steer for Sofala, a Portuguese
settlement, where they arrived in safety.
Unfortunately, but a single vessel touched at the settlement in the
course of the year; and it had sailed about a month before. Finding
that there was here no hope of obtaining relief for their companions,
they again set sail, intending to proceed to Delagoa bay, in the
expectation of falling in with some of the South Sea ships, which touch
there annually in considerable numbers. Contrary winds, however, and
the leaky state of their boat, soon forced them to return to Sofala.
The governor received them, this time, in a very different manner from
that which he had shown to them on their former visit, and with little
ceremony insisted on the whole party proceeding with his messengers to
Senna, an inland settlement.
For five weeks they travelled through a miserable country, very
thinly inhabited, and exposed to the intense heat of the sun, and
many dangers from the wild beasts with which the country abounds. The
fatigue which they underwent on this journey was too much for several
of the party, who died shortly after their arrival.
At length, five months after leaving Madagascar, two of the forty
reached Mozambique. Here they freighted a vessel, and proceeded to
the rescue of their unfortunate comrades in misfortune. They found
them in a most melancholy plight. Disease and despair had been at work
among them; nearly one half of those who were saved from the wreck had
perished. The others, emaciated and worn out, were embarked, and, with
the exception of seven, who expired on the passage, reached Mozambique,
where, in spite of every attention which was lavished on them by the
governor and the inhabitants, about thirty of them died within two
months of their arrival.
When the others were so far recovered as to be able to proceed, they
again hired a vessel to carry them to Madras; but, before they reached
it, the ship was captured by a French privateer. Part of the crew the
privateer took on board their own ship, and put a number of their men
into the captured vessel, with orders to proceed to the Mauritius
with all possible speed. The privateer then continued her cruise,
and in a few days falling in with a Dutch East Indiaman, engaged
with her; but the Dutchmen proving victors, the remains of the crew
of the unfortunate Winterton were once more set at liberty. They at
length reached Madras; whence they sailed for England in the Scorpion
sloop-of-war.
Poor fellows! they seem to have been very unlucky, Uncle Thomas. The
rest of the crew, who were carried to the Mauritius, did they get home
in safety also, Uncle Thomas?
Oh, I had almost forgotten to tell you about them, Frank. They never
reached England; nor could the least intelligence be heard of them,
though the East India Company caused the most diligent inquiries to be
made after them.
Do you think they were again shipwrecked, Uncle Thomas?
That I won't say: but I rather fear there was foul play somewhere.
Without some certain grounds to go upon, however, it is useless to
conjecture. So I must bid you good night.
Good night, Uncle Thomas!