Northern Lights.--High Winds.--Spoke with Captain Clough.
--Ships seen in the Distance.--Storm increasing.--No
Observations.--Blowing heavily.--Scene awfully sublime.--
Ship struck by a Sea.--Shoal Water.--Rocks and Breakers.--
Ship unmanageable.--Fore and mizzen Topsails carried away.--
Ship striking astern, bow, and midships.--Foremast cut away.
--Narrow Escape of Captain Norton.--Mizzenmast gone by the
Board.--Sad Condition of the Seamen.--Land in Sight.--Ship
drifting towards the Shore.--Undertow.--The Lantern Keg.--
Mainmast cut away, and falling towards the Shore.--Men escaping
on the Mast.--Trying Scene.--Captain washed ashore.--
Affecting Deaths.--Wreck piled up on Shore.--Fire made.--
Men perishing with Cold.--Five missing.--Prospects dark.--
Destitution.--Tent erected.--Merciful Circumstances connected
with the Wreck.
On the 21st of September, we finished cutting in a whale, about twelve
o'clock, midnight, wind high from the north-east. The northern lights
were uncommonly brilliant, which prognosticated a storm; and the broken
water and flying spray round the vessel seemed as if composed of an
infinite number of diamonds glistening in the rays of the sun.
The season of the year had now arrived in which, in those high
latitudes, sudden changes and violent storms were expected. At three
o'clock on the morning of the 22d, the ship was put under short
sail; rough; unable to keep fires in the furnace; ship heading to
the south-east. We spoke with Captain Clough, who had just taken in
a "raft" of blubber. We took a whale; and for a little time the wind
moderated, which gave us hope that we should have favorable weather
some time longer. Captain Clough left us that day, and turned his ship
towards the straits, saying, "I am bound out of the ocean, and have
enough." His ship was full; he had thirty-two hundred barrels of oil on
board.
We concluded to remain on the ground a while longer, in lat. 68 deg. N. The
wind, which had in a measure subsided, now began to rise and increase,
until it had reached a heavy gale. We saw in the distance several ships
steering for the straits, and bound for the islands. On the 23d, it
blew hard, and we were unable to boil.
We judged we were, at this time, about one hundred and fifty miles from
land. The weather had been thick for several days past, and therefore
we were unable to get an observation. We saw several ships lying to,
and heading some one way and some another. The water, we perceived, was
very much colored, which indicated that we were drifting towards the
eastern shore of the Arctic. At twelve o'clock, wore ship, heading
north-west by north. At the same hour that night, wore ship again,
heading north-east.
We passed a ship, within the distance of half a a mile, under bare
poles, laboring very hard. On the 24th, four o'clock, wore ship
north-north-west, wind blowing very heavily from the north-east. We saw
great quantities of drift stuff, such as barrels, wood, &c., probably
the deck load of some ship swept by the sea. At twelve o'clock, wore
ship again; the wind appeared to lull somewhat, but the sea was very
rugged; we judged we were about one hundred or one hundred and twenty
miles distant from land; weather thick, with rain, sleet, and fog.
About one o'clock, on the morning of the 25th, the wind increased, and
swept over the ocean with the violence of a hurricane. The darkness
of the night added to the tumultuous and mountainous waves that were
running at that time; the surface of the ocean lashed into fury by the
thickening storm, still gathering its strength; the noble ship now
rising the crested billow, and then sinking into the watery valley
beneath, and pressed down by the beating and overwhelming elements,
made the scene one of indescribable grandeur and awfulness. With the
return of morning light, an ugly sea struck the ship, and took her
spars from the bow, and carried away one of the starboard boats.
The mate immediately reported to the captain, who was below at the
time, that the ship was in shoal water. As soon as he reached the
deck, he ordered to set the fore and mizzen topsails. About the same
time, the fourth mate reported that there were rocks and breakers just
before and under the bows of the ship. From the house, the captain saw
projecting rocks through the opening waters, and land all around to the
leeward, while the sea was breaking with tremendous violence between
the ship and shore.
It now became a certainty, which no earthly power could change, that
the ship must go ashore; and the only hope for any one on board was
to avoid, if possible, the fatal reef, which appeared to extend out
some distance from the land. To strike upon that reef was certain
destruction; we saw no way of escape.
The man at the wheel was ordered to put the helm hard up, and at the
same time command was given to the seamen to sheet home the fore
topsail. The ship immediately paid off two or three points, when she
was struck again by another sea, that threw her round on the other tack.
The ship was now in the midst of the rollers, pitching and laboring
dreadfully, while the sea was flying all over her deck, and the spray
reaching nearly or quite to her fore and main yards. She was utterly
unmanageable; and, at this instant, another sea boarded her, and took
off three boats. The yards were ordered to be braced round as soon as
possible; but, in the act of bracing them, a terrible blast of wind
struck and carried away the fore and mizzen topsails, half-sheeted
home. The foresail was now ordered to be set, the ship still pitching,
tumbling, and rolling frightfully, and tossed about as a mere plaything
at the mercy of winds and waves. In the act of setting the foresail,
the weather clew was carried away, and with the next sea the ship
struck aft very heavily, and knocked her rudder off, and sent the wheel
up through the house. From five to eight minutes she struck forward
with such stunning and overwhelming effect that the try-works started
three or four feet from the deck, and opened a hole so large in her
starboard bow that the largest casks came out.
About this time, the foremast was cut away, with the hope of
temporarily relieving the foundering vessel. Shortly after this, the
ship struck midships; and the dreadful crash which followed showed that
her entire framework was shattered, while the standing masts bent to
and fro like slender reeds when shaken by the wind. This was in effect
the finishing blow; and what was to be done towards rescuing any thing
below deck must be done soon or never.
The captain, at this critical juncture, went into the cabin to secure
what articles he could, such as clothes, nautical instruments, money,
&c. While there, the stern burst in, and the water came in between the
opening timbers in such torrents as to send him backward and headlong
with the few articles he had hastily gathered, and scattered them
in every direction. The floor of the cabin opened beneath his feet.
There was no time for delay. His life was in imminent peril. He at
once started for the deck, but was unable to reach it on account of
the house having been thrown down upon the gangway, and the mizzenmast
having gone by the board, one part of which rested upon the rail. All
access to the deck by the cabin doors was thus cut off.
Mr. Fisher became aware of the condition of the captain in the cabin,
and called to him to come to the skylight; and as he jumped, he was
caught by his arms, and drawn up by several who had come to his rescue.
On reaching the deck, the captain saw at once the sad condition of
his men. The sea was making a clear breach over the vessel, and they
were huddled together round the forecastle and forward part of the
ship, amazed, stupefied, cold, and shivering, and had apparently given
themselves up to the fate which awaited them.
The fog having in a measure cleared away, the land was more plainly
seen, and just at hand--not more than three hundred yards distant.
The mainmast was still standing; and there was every indication that
the entire top of the vessel, including the first and second decks,
had become separated from her bottom, and was drifting in towards the
shore. This proved to be the case. The standing mast was now inclining
towards the shore, which seemed to present the only way to deliverance
and life. The captain, therefore, encouraged his men to seize the first
opportunity which should occur, and escape to land, and the sooner they
did so the safer and better.
As the ship changed her position by the action of the waves, which
swept over and around her with resistless fury, the end of the flying
jib boom, at one time, was brought quite near the shore. The seamen
were again urged to make an effort to save themselves. It was, indeed,
a most desperate chance to venture an escape even from a present
danger, with the liability of falling into another, unknown, and
perhaps more to be dreaded. Though so near the solid land, towards
which every eye looked and every heart panted, still the surging
billows and receding undertow around the bow of the ship, were
sufficient to appall the most courageous mind.
About this time, as near as can be recollected, the cooper and one of
the boat steerers, having dropped themselves from the bow, reached
land in safety. The captain, having observed that two had gained the
shore, and knowing the utter impossibility of getting fire ashore if
it was deferred until the breaking up of the ship, and without it all
must unavoidably perish, even if they were saved from a watery grave,
held up the lantern keg to attract their attention, and, making signs
to them as far he was able for them to look after and save it, tossed
the keg overboard. It was borne on the advancing and retreating waves
back and forth for more than a quarter of a mile, before it was finally
secured. In this keg, which was air-tight, there were candles, matches,
tinder, and other combustible materials. It was indeed a most timely
and fortunate rescue.
An effort was now made to get a line ashore. One of the crew fastened
a line round his body, and attempted to reach the shore, the captain
paying out the warp as was necessary. But in consequence of the great
force of the current and undertow around the bow of the ship, the line
swayed out so far that the man was compelled to let it go in order to
save his life. It was with the greatest difficulty he reached the shore.
As the only and last resort which remained, offering reasonable
prospect of deliverance, the mainmast was cut away. The ship was now
lying nearly broadside to the shore, with her deck inboard, and so much
heeled that it required the greatest attention to prevent one from
falling off. The mast fell in the direction of the shore, and nearly
reached land. The sea was still breaking with fearful power over the
vessel, and its spray flying in dense masses over every thing around
us, and the din of the thundering billows, as they beat upon the wreck
and upon the shore, drowned all human voices to silence.
Again the captain passed along to the forward part of the ship, and
once more remonstrated, urged and entreated his men to exert themselves
for their safety and lives, as they had now the same means of getting
ashore that the officers had; and, furthermore, that in a short time
the deck would go to pieces, and then there would be but little, if any
hope of their being saved. He resolved he would not leave the wreck
until he saw his men in a fair way of escape. Up to this time, no one,
it is supposed, had been lost; several had reached land in safety, but
those still on the wreck were exposed every moment to a watery grave.
At length, the steerage boy lowered himself down from the bow, and with
manly efforts sought to gain the land. He was immediately swept away,
and was never seen after. About this time, many began to crawl down on
the mainmast, still lying in the direction of the shore. In working
their way along on the mast, their progress was not only slow, but they
were chilled, benumbed with cold, their clothes thoroughly wet to their
backs, and the sea at the same time flying over them. It was with the
greatest difficulty they could hold on. The sight was a most affecting
one. It was a period of painful anxiety. How many of these seamen will
be saved?--how many will be lost?
While attempting thus to escape upon the mast, the advancing or the
returning waves would frequently wash numbers off, and then they would
struggle with all their energies to regain the mast or the rigging;
while those who were more fortunate, and had retained their hold, would
aid them as far as possible in getting on to the mast again. It was a
most trying and heart-rending scene.
[Illustration: WRECK OF THE CITIZEN.]
The captain and Mr. Fisher were on the quarter deck, and observed a
part of a boat hanging by the side of the ship; and they proposed
to get into it, and, if possible, reach the land. Their purpose was
to hold on to the boat, and thus be borne by the sea towards the
shore. They did get into it; but whether it was carried towards the
shore or not, or what became of the piece of the boat, they have
no recollection. They were struck by a sea, and probably stunned.
The first returning consciousness the captain had, he found himself
floating alongside of the ship. He knew not what had become of Mr.
Fisher until some time after. He regained a foothold on the quarter
deck again, and seemed awakened more fully than ever to the conviction
that he must do something, and that soon, in order to save his own
life. He was chilled, benumbed, and exhausted; chances of escape
appearing less and less probable, as a last resort, said Captain
Norton, "I threw myself into the water, among casks, broken pieces
of the wreck, and, besides, my own men floating all around me, that
I might, if possible, gain the shore. I was probably insensible for
some time. I knew nothing of what took place around me. When I came to
myself, I found I was lying near the edge of the water, having been
cast ashore by some friendly wave. I looked around, and the first man I
saw was the fourth mate, floating about in the water a short distance
from me. Mr. Fisher was washed ashore about the same time I was. We
hastened to the fourth mate as soon as we were able; and one held on to
the hand of the other, and hauled him ashore, supposing him to be dead.
He, however, revived."
A heavy sea came along, and washed a number from the mast, and brought
them ashore; but one man was carried off by the undertow outside the
ship. The next sea brought him near to the shore again; and four of
those on shore took hold of each other's hands, and ventured as far as
safety would allow into the water, and succeeded in drawing him safe to
land.
The condition of the carpenter was painful and distressing in the
highest degree; yet no one could help him--no earthly power could
afford him any assistance. He was plainly seen by those on shore. He
was probably washed from the mast, with some others, and carried out to
the deck again; and while there, he was doubtless caught in between the
opening planks and timbers, and held fast by his legs; and it may be he
was otherwise injured. He answered no signs made to him from the shore;
he made no effort to free himself or to escape; and, in his case, an
escape was an impossibility. In that position, his head dropped upon
his breast, and there he died. Soon after, another sea struck the
deck, and broke it all to pieces. The largest part that could be seen
was that from the bow to the fore chains.
Another painful occurrence was witnessed by those on the shore. A
Portuguese sailor was discovered floating about among the broken
pieces of the wreck, among casks, barrels, &c. His efforts for
self-preservation were remarkable. His shipmates would most gladly
have given him a helping hand, but it was impossible to do so. Every
heart was moved with sympathy for him. As the towering wave would hurl
towards him some piece of the wreck, or a cask or barrel, he was seen
to dive, and thus avoid being crushed by it. This he did repeatedly,
until, from exhaustion or injury, or both, he sunk to rise no more.
We had three dogs on board, but they were all either killed or drowned;
and of three hogs, only one got ashore alive. Within two hours from the
time the ship first struck, the wreck was piled up on shore, opposite
to where the disaster occurred, to the height of ten feet or more.
Spars, timbers, planks, casks both whole and broken, shooks, &c., were
thrown together in frightful confusion; and in this promiscuous mass we
saw what was once our home and hope on the deep. Here we saw before
our eyes a striking illustration of the feebleness of man's frail bark,
and with what ease it is torn to pieces, and scattered far and wide, by
the resistless power of the elements.
All who were living of our number had reached the shore. Those that
were saved had become greatly chilled, and some were nearly perishing.
Notwithstanding it was storming at the time, one of the first efforts
of a part of our men was to make a fire over a cliff some little
distance from the shore, affording a partial protection from the wind
and rain.
In searching for articles as they came ashore, we discovered a small
keg of spirits, which, in our condition of cold and destitution, was
somewhat reviving to all our minds. Five casks of bread, also, were
cast upon the beach; but neither beef nor pork was found. The latter
probably sunk where the ship left her bottom.
The whole company was soon gathered round the fire, in order to dry
our clothes, and, if possible, to obtain some additional warmth.
All, however, of our former number were not there; it was a solemn
gathering, and the appearance of all of us indicated that we had a
narrow escape. Alas! some of our comrades and fellow-seamen were left
behind in the surges of the deep, or mingled with the floating wreck,
or cast with it upon the shore. The roll was called by the captain, and
thirty-three answered to their names; five were numbered with the dead.
The few hours of the past had been full of painful and distressing
interest. The majority of our number had been mercifully rescued; but
we were cast shelterless, with a small supply of provisions, with
no clothing, only what was upon our backs, upon the most barren and
desolate region of the earth.
What were our present prospects? They were dark and ominous indeed.
A new voyage, in effect, was just opening before us, with diminished
numbers, of the progress and termination of which we could not even
entertain a reasonable conjecture; yet one thing was certain--its
commencement was inauspicious. And, though hope might measurably
sustain our minds, still the prospective view before this company of
castaway seamen--the rigors of the arctic winter before us, wholly
unprepared with clothing to withstand the merciless and long-continued
cold of the north, uncertain whether there would be any deliverance
for us by any friendly sail, or what would be our reception among the
natives,--indeed, the prospect before us was any thing but cheering and
encouraging.
But here we were, in the providence of God, vessel and boats gone, at
an unknown distance from civilized life and from the settlements of
the natives; this was our present lot. Self-preservation, therefore,
prompted us to make immediate efforts, in anticipation of what we might
need in the future. A common misfortune united all our interests and
exertions.
The captain ordered that every thing of value to them in their present
circumstances found among the wreck--such as provisions, casks of
sails, pieces of canvas, ropes, broken spars, tools, whale gearing, &c.
--should be selected, and brought out of the reach of the surf and the
accumulation of ice upon the shore. More than a thousand barrels of oil
had drifted ashore, and could have been saved had some vessel arrived
about that time. A temporary tent was erected as soon as possible,
in which various articles could be stored, as well as afford some
protection to us from the inclemency of the weather.
There were two circumstances exceedingly favorable in our disaster.
It might have been much worse, and no one might have lived to relate
the sad event. We realized, upon the review, that this would have been
our certain fate, had the ship gone ashore in the night time. It was,
however, daylight, and thus we had a clear view of our condition,
danger, and prospects. Had it been otherwise, and the same general
features of the wreck been transferred to the darkness of night, we do
not believe that one soul of us would have been saved.
The other favorable circumstance was, we were not cast upon a rocky
part of the coast, or against some high and precipitous cliffs, which
lift their bold and defiant fronts against the surges of the ocean far
into deep water; to strike against such as we saw, would, at the first
concussion, have been the last of the ship and of all on board.
In the good providence of God, however, we drifted upon a part of the
coast which presented, for half of a mile or more, quite a plain, sandy
beach. We were, therefore, wrecked in the most fortunate spot. On both
sides of us, to the west and south-east, cliffs began to rise, and
broken and abrupt ledges extended some distance into the sea. Though
five of our number found a watery grave, yet the fact that so many of
us reached the shore was a matter of profound gratitude to that God who
controls the elements, and before whom the sparrow does not fall to the
ground without his notice.