'When the vessel broke, an awful shriek--the death-cry of
hundreds--was heard above the violence of the storm. On shore, the
villagers and the sailors who had escaped unhurt linked hands, and
the bravest stepped into the surf to catch hold of those whom the
waves bore towards them on their crests, before they were drawn back
into the sea. Foremost in one link was George Suaicar, and he was
instrumental in laying hold of nine out of those rescued, until
exhausted, he fell senseless on the rock, and was borne away.
William Foster was another who joined in forming the link. The
vessel struck finally about seven, and broke about nine o'clock. On
board were the officers of three vessels coming from Australia, and
they, with the captain and officers of the ill-fated "Royal
Charter," were all lost.'
The George Suaicar, thus honourably mentioned, speaks for himself with
the modesty of a brave sailor. His position on the ship was that of
boatswain's mate. His testimony has special value as bearing upon the
earlier passages of the tragedy:--
'On Monday,' he says, assuming a staid, log-book form, 'we left
Queenstown in the afternoon, after putting some passengers on board
the pilot-boat "Petrel," who desired to be landed. We proceeded on
with calm weather and water smooth. We made Ballycotton Light at
half-past seven P.M.; and Youghal Light, on the Irish coast, at
half-past eight. Reached the Menay Light at nine; made the Nook
Light in half an hour; and sighted Tuskar at about half-past eleven
o'clock. On Tuesday morning saw Bardsey, at which time the wind
began to freshen. The wind heading, we took in the square-sails; and
at ten o'clock A.M., the wind increasing, took in all the fore and
aft sails. In the afternoon made Holyhead at half-past one, and at
half-past four were right ahead of Holyhead harbour. Could see the
steamship "Great Eastern." Off Bardsey the steam-tug "United
Kingdom" came alongside and handed on board some newspapers, asking
if we would give a free passage to eleven riggers, as we were going
to Liverpool, and the tug was not going until she got a tow. The
riggers were taken on board. At a quarter to eight on Tuesday
evening were abreast of the Skerries, distant about a mile and a
half. At this time the wind had increased to a heavy gale, and the
ship was making little or no progress in the water. She was driving
up with the strength of the tide, and nearing the shore; the steam
had no effect, but we did all to keep the ship off. The maintopsail
was lowered, but she still drifted. Clewed up the maintopsail, and
the hands were sent up to furl it. The wind had now increased
considerably, almost blew the sail from the yard, and it became
entangled on the starboard side. It was difficult to get the sail
stowed. At this time Mr. Bean, the third officer, with several
seamen and myself, were trying to make the sail fast, but could not
succeed in accomplishing it. Shortly afterwards orders were given to
cock-bill the port anchor, and let go. This was done, giving her
seventy-five fathoms of chain. The vessel was steaming the whole
time. Finding she was dragging, we let go the starboard anchor.
Still finding her dragging, we paid out all the port chain. The
vessel was still steaming, and the wind had now increased to a
perfect hurricane. We then went to get the stream anchor up, and
while doing so the starboard chain parted. I then felt the ship
canting over to port, and fancied the wind had changed.
'Orders were then given to cut away the mainmast, which was done,
and in a few minutes afterwards she struck on a bank. The captain
gave orders to the engineer to give her as much steam as he could,
to harden her on the bank. It was then about three-quarters ebb
tide. The place where she struck was at the west of Moelfra,
eastward of Point Lynas. Heard the captain give orders to starboard
the helm, to keep her on the shore, so that the sea would not have
so much power on her broadside. When she became hardened on, the
chief officer gave me and the boatswain orders to cut the main and
maintopmast stays, as they were lying across the boat, so that the
boat could be cleared in case of need. We did so. The chief
boatswain and myself were afterwards sitting on a spar, on the
deck-house, the sea at the time making a complete breach over the
ship. I then went forward to look out, and ascertain whether we were
on sand or rock, when I discovered the land distant about thirty
yards. I went back, and told the chief officer that it was land; and
he said, "We will loose the foretopmast-staysail, and when the tide
makes up run her up." I said it would be as well to give her the
foresail. It was then getting daylight. I volunteered to go ashore
with a line to get a hawser ashore, immediately after which I felt
the ship striking heavier than ever, supposing it was in consequence
of the tide making. The sea still broke over her with even greater
violence than ever. The captain was at this time on deck, standing
by the steam telegraph. I told the chief officer again I was willing
to go ashore with a line, and do everything to save life. Asked him
if he would allow me a few minutes to put my lifebelt on; and he
said of course he would. I afterwards told the boatswain I was going
to try and get a line on shore, and he said it was useless, the sea
was running too high. Afterwards had a small line slung round my
body, and wished some one to volunteer to attend to it while I swam
ashore. After some hesitation, a man volunteered. Just as I was
being lowered into the water, some one called out that there was a
line on shore from forward. Upon hearing that I did not go. A hawser
was got on shore and made fast to a rock, and with this contrivance
myself and some of the other seamen saved our lives. The hawser was
made fast by several of the inhabitants on shore, who came to render
assistance.
'After the ship struck, all the passengers were directed to go aft
until the hawser could be properly got out, so that as many as
possible might be saved. Shortly after this the vessel parted
amidships; and a large number of passengers, standing on the deck
where she parted, were swept into the sea and drowned. The boats
were smashed to pieces by the fury of the gale, and the others
could not be lowered, so that none of them could be made available.
The passengers saved were driven on shore by the force of the waves.
Sixteen of the crew got ashore by the hawser. An endeavour was made
to get a second hawser ashore to rescue the female passengers; but
this could not be accomplished. Not a single female passenger was
saved. In three hours after the vessel struck she began to go to
pieces. Saw about seventy passengers on the port bow, all anxiously
awaiting some means of getting them on shore; but a heavy sea which
struck the starboard bow stove it in, the ship gave a lurch, and the
people were all driven into the sea and drowned. Some of the
passengers saved were thrown upon the rocks, and picked up by the
crew and others who came to render assistance.'
From the narratives, then, of Mr. Russell and the Boatswain's Mate,
this much may be gathered--that the 'Royal Charter' had drifted (shall
we say had been foolishly allowed to drift?) too near the coast; that
the hurricane had gradually increased, and as the vessel laboured so
heavily, the masts had been cut away to ease her; that the screw,
which had to an extent served to keep the ship from striking, became
suddenly entangled with the falling spars, and ceased to work; that
the strong wind and stronger waves then bore the craft against the
rocks; that, through the courage of a seaman, a rope was carried to
the coast with a 'boatswain's chair' secured upon it; that (when a
sufficient number of the crew had landed to work 'this contrivance')
the passengers had been summoned to be sent ashore; that, just as they
were congregating amidships, a crash was heard, the vessel parted, and
fell to pieces like a house of cards; that a few hasty farewells, a
quick exchange of hopeless glances, a waving of hands which heretofore
had been joined in all life's struggles, and a last wild cry to
heaven, through which the wintry sun was slowly breaking, followed
that awful crash; that the ship gradually sank and the sea gradually
swelled; that a few bodies, cruelly mutilated, were washed upon the
shelving crags; that the sun rose higher and higher, until at length
its beams flickered among the crimson gouts upon the faces of the
rocks; and, finally, that the Welsh villagers gathered upon the spot,
and, with true Welsh hospitality, bore the bodies of the unfortunate
passengers to their homes.
And the sun set and the moon came up; and the wives of the officers
and crew--and all those who knew, or thought, they had friends or
relatives on board--assembled upon the spot, searching along the shore
for tokens or memorials however slight from which LIFE or DEATH might
be interpreted, and suspense changed, for better or for worse, to
certainty.
Other narratives come in at this point, all more or less afflicting.
The first is that of James Dean, which is remarkable as showing how,
in the most harrowing exigencies, the presence of mind of some men
never deserts them. Dean is a smith returned from Melbourne, and he
speaks bravely and bluffly, after the manner of his class. In reading
his story, it is well to mark the religion and heroism which breathe
through the words I have underlined.
'He says he was in bed in a berth with four other passengers when
the ship struck, and he was aroused by one of his comrades
exclaiming, "I think we're lost." He dressed himself, and _after a
few minutes' prayer_, ascended on deck, where he had not been more
than a very brief period when the vessel parted in the centre "like
the snapping of a tobacco stump." The people on board stood
petrified, as it were, seemingly unable to make the slightest
struggle for their lives; whilst their terror was increased by the
awful scenes presented as unfortunate creatures fell and were
crushed to atoms in the chasm separating the two parts of the ship.
He never for a moment lost his presence of mind. He saw that most of
those in the water struggled towards the large pieces of the wreck,
and he saw also that most of those who trusted to these heavy
portions of the vessel were crushed to death, and their bodies
dreadfully mutilated against the rocks. Though totally unable to
swim he jumped overboard, and just seized a box he saw floating near
him. Almost at the very moment he seized this a head was thrust
under his arm, and a second claimant appeared. _Dean said it would
not support both of them; so as soon as possible he left the box for
another piece of wood_, and with this he was thrown upon the shore.
He left his support and tried to gain a position of security; but
ere he could do so a wave overpowered him and carried him back to
sea, where he became entangled in the floating remnants of the
vessel, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he extricated
himself. When he had succeeded in this, he was again thrown on
shore. Whilst momentarily expecting the arrival of another wave, a
rope was thrown to him, and by it he was finally drawn out of
danger, without experiencing any injuries or bruises other than of a
very trifling description. He soon recovered strength. He was
bringing home a cheque for a considerable sum of money, and before
his voyage he had taken the precaution to enclose this in a
waterproof belt, which he kept around his waist. This cheque is
therefore saved, and his only losses are his clothes and a small sum
of money which was with them.'
Mr. John Bradbury speaks not only on the accident, but gives us a
glimpse of the earlier portion of the voyage. His sufferings on
escaping from the wreck were very great, and will serve as a _hint_ of
what may have been endured before death by many of those whose bones
are now bleaching beneath the waters. But for his athletic person and
robust constitution, John Bradbury--who speaks as under--would,
without doubt, have been numbered with the lost:--
'We sailed from Melbourne on the 26th of August, and had on board,
as I know, about five hundred passengers and crew. The captain was
Mr. Thomas Taylor; the chief officer, Mr. Stevens; and the second
mate, Mr. Cowie. The ship ran almost entirely under canvas up to the
equinoctial line, when she encountered strong head winds. Her screw
power was then brought into requisition. On the 10th of September,
about four o'clock in the morning, the weather being thick and dark,
we ran close past a large iceberg. Mr. Cowie was on watch, and had
it not been for his able manœuvring, the ship would have been in
imminent danger. The passengers showed their appreciation of his
ability by presenting him with a testimonial on the eve of the
dreadful disaster. We arrived at Queenstown on Monday forenoon, when
twelve passengers disembarked. We left Queenstown about two o'clock,
under steam alone. The ship was laid on her course for Liverpool,
but the storm had the effect of diverting her to such an extent that
I saw the "Great Eastern" at Holyhead. The wind was then blowing
very hard. We sighted the light on Point Lynas about five o'clock in
the afternoon. The sea was running high, though not equal to what we
had experienced on the passage; but the wind was stronger. It was
found we could make no headway, and two anchors were dropped. She
dragged her anchors, and the engines were working, but I understood
the screw was broken.
'About two o'clock on Wednesday morning the vessel struck. A great
number of passengers were then in their berths; but they suddenly
rushed upon deck, many of them but partially dressed. There was not
much confusion at first, but it increased as people became aware of
the real danger. I believe the captain was not sober; but Captain
Withers, who was a passenger, and the chief mate and officers, did
all they could to save the ship. A rope was got out from the head of
the vessel, but I cannot say how. A kind of rope chain was made and
placed upon it. By means of this some were drawn along the hawser to
the shore. When the rope was seen there was a great rush to the
forecastle deck, in order to get the first advantage. A large wave
washed over her head and carried them into the sea. Others followed,
but only to meet a similar fate. I was standing near the davit of a
boat on the poop, when a sea jammed me fast between the boat and
something else. I was beaten about and my ankle dislocated, and then
my leg was broken. I then became insensible for a short time, but on
regaining my consciousness I got a rope, and fastening it, lowered
myself down from the poop into the sea, upon a piece of the wreck,
along with the storekeeper. I was knocked up and down, turned topsy
turvy, driven and battered against this thing and the other till I
lighted upon a piece of cabin framework, and paddled myself along
with my hands. The waves washed me three times on the rocks, and
took me back, battering me about. The next time I fell between two
rocks, which held me, and I was picked up by two men. Four men
brought me to this house, which is kept by Mr. Owens; who has been
very kind to me. My leg was set by Mr. Thomas of Liverpool.'
The simplicity of that statement must touch the strongest. Captain
Withers, it may be worth mentioning, was returning from Australia,
after having lost his ship in the Pacific. His exertions throughout
the storm were very great, and it was under his advice that the masts
were cut away.[C] There are those who say that if the ship had been
earlier dismasted she would not have gone to pieces. I can speak with
no authority upon this point. This, however, I know, Captain Taylor so
loved his craft that when we ran short of provisions coming home, and
might, with two or three hours' supply more of fuel have made the
Island of St. Vincent, and taken in a stock both of firing and food,
he preferred running all the hazard of 'keeping on,' rather than touch
the 'beautiful spars' of his vessel. The loss to his owners in
consequence was many thousand pounds. In compensation to second and
third class passengers alone, they had to pay something like fifteen
hundred pounds. I can, therefore, readily understand that the
dismasting of the vessel may have been unfortunately delayed until it
was too late to save her. At the same time it is but fair to the
memory of the captain--than whom a braver sailor never trod a deck--to
say that all such rumours should be accepted with caution. Colonial
readers will well remember the many absurd and contradictory reports
which were current when the 'Dunbar' went ashore.
[C] The following appears in the _Morning Herald_ of November
2nd:--'Captain Withers, the master of the wrecked vessel
"Virginia" (lost in the South Pacific), with nine men, after
being nineteen days at sea in an open boat, and enduring
innumerable privations, all arrived safe at the Feejee islands,
and thence they were conveyed to Sydney, New South Wales. On
arriving at Sydney, Captain Withers after seeing that the crew
were provided with clothes, went on to Melbourne, and took a
passage home to England in the "Royal Charter." He is the
"Captain Withers" mentioned by one of the persons saved from the
wreck of the "Royal Charter," who behaved with such noble
fortitude and unflinching bravery when all seemed lost, and when
it was a mockery to hope against such a fearful tempest. But he
was doomed to die a sailor's death, for the last seen of him was
when he called out to Mr. Stevens and Captain Taylor, "God bless
you, Stevens! God bless you, Taylor! Keep firm." The ship broke
up immediately after: the rest already too well known.' Strange
are the ways of Providence! Captain Withers was saved, after
terrible privations, from perishing in the South Pacific to be
dashed to pieces on the rocks of Wales!
That the captain was in some degree ignorant of the exact spot where
he was, and was but imperfectly acquainted with the coast, seems
manifest from this,--when the hurricane gathered in its might, it was
proposed that a barrel of tar should be fired and sent adrift, in
order to light up the coast. 'When the vessel struck,' says one of the
daily newspaper reports, 'signal guns were fired, rockets sent off,
and every means adopted to attract attention from the shore; but the
houses in the neighbourhood being few and far between, no practicable
assistance was attracted. No life-boat could live in the raging sea,
and the boats of the vessel herself were perfectly unavailable.'
* * * * *
From the foregoing, a picture only too vivid of the catastrophe may be
realized. The Boatswain's Mate describes the storm; Mr. Russell paints
the ship with all its intense and death-foreboding excitement; and Mr.
Bradbury conveys, with dread distinctness, the manner in which the
handful of saved fought their way from the jaws of death.
One or two other narratives, purporting to be from survivors, have
appeared, but as they are mere paraphrases of those I have given, I
have some doubt in the first place of their genuineness, and in the
second of the desirability of occupying space with repetitions.
Let the description of the night of the wreck end here.
The moment the news of the disaster reached London and Liverpool,
agents from Lloyd's and the owners of the ship were despatched to
Molfre Bay. They were accompanied by representatives of the principal
London and Liverpool journals, and the communications which the
reporters subsequently addressed to their several papers were
affecting in the extreme. Here is the first:--
'MOLFRA BAY, THURSDAY EVENING.--It is my very painful duty to record
the total wreck of the screw steamship "Royal Charter," Captain
Taylor, which took place at from three to eight o'clock on the
morning of Wednesday, at Molfre, a rugged portion of the Anglesea
coast, and about midway between Amlwch and Ruffin Island. The
ill-fated vessel sailed from Melbourne on the 26th of August, having
on board 388 passengers, of whom 63 occupied the saloon, and a crew,
including officers, of 112 persons. While the ship was passing
Queenstown, on Monday morning, 13 of the passengers landed in a
pilot-boat. On Tuesday morning, at eleven o'clock, the "Royal
Charter" spoke the steam-tug "United Kingdom," which, instead of
returning to port with riggers who had been assisting in the working
of a ship to Cardiff, transferred 11 of the riggers to the "Royal
Charter," Captain Taylor having kindly agreed to take them to
Liverpool; so that there were on board at the time of the wreck 498
souls, and of these only 39 were saved.
'The loss of life on this sad occasion was 459 persons. The "Royal
Charter" had on board a large quantity of specie on freight, the
exact amount of which cannot be ascertained, as all the ship's
papers have been lost, but it was variously estimated by the
surviving passengers and crew at from 500,000_l._ to 800,000_l._ One
of the saloon passengers, who was drowned, was stated to have had in
his possession gold to the value of 10,000_l._ She had only a
moderate cargo, principally of wool and skins.' [Did the small cargo
have anything to do with the loss of the vessel? Would she, if more
heavily laden, have drifted so rapidly upon the rocks?] 'From the
time of leaving Port Phillip Heads till the arrival off the Irish
coast the passage was in the highest degree favourable; she was only
once in danger, and then from an iceberg. After passing Queenstown
the wind veered round to E.N.E., blowing strong. On Tuesday night it
blew a gale, and continued to increase in violence, till at length,
on the morning of the fatal disaster, it became a perfect hurricane.
Arriving off Point Lynas at six P.M. on Tuesday evening, signal
rockets were for several hours thrown up, in the hope of attracting
a pilot, but none made their appearance. Captain Taylor, finding
that his ship was making leeway, and gradually drifting towards the
shore, let go both the anchors, but such was the violence of the
wind, and the heavy cross sea prevailing, that the chains parted.'
[The same night the "Great Eastern" was all but lost through one of
her massive cables snapping.] 'Notwithstanding that the engines were
worked at their full power, the captain was unable to work to
windward, and the unfortunate vessel struck the rocks stern first in
four fathoms water. Up to this period (about three A.M.) not the
slightest alarm was evinced among the passengers, a large portion of
whom were women and children. The most perfect discipline and order
prevailed. The masts and rigging were cut adrift, but caused no
relief, as the ship continued to thump on the sharp-pointed rocks
with fearful rapidity.
'Shortly after she struck, the ship was thrown broadside on,
perfectly upright upon the shelving stony beach, the head and stern
lying due east and west, the former not being more than twenty yards
from a projecting rock. At this juncture one of the crew, a Maltese,
named Joseph Rogers, nobly volunteered to struggle through the heavy
surf and convey a rope on shore. Though it was not believed by any
one that danger was imminent, the captain gave the order, and Rogers
ably fulfilled his duty. A strong hawser was then passed and secured
on shore, and to this was rigged a "boatswain's chair." At five
o'clock the ship laboured and bumped to such an extent that the
ladies and children exhibited the greatest anxiety and fear: they
crowded together in the after part of the saloon, and the Rev. Mr.
Hodge, of East Retford, a Clergyman of the Church of England,
offered up a prayer; but his exhortations were interrupted by the
violent thumping of the vessel on the rocks, and the heavy seas
which came dashing into the cabin.' [Throughout the passage, this
reverend gentleman had administered religious service, and had made
so many friendships that his fellow-passengers had presented him
with a testimonial.] 'The scene in the saloon was of the most
heartrending description; children and parents, husbands and wives,
were clinging to each other in affectionate embrace. Captain Taylor
and Captain Withers came down and tried to allay their fears by
assuring them that there was no immediate danger. Scarcely had their
words been uttered before a succession of tremendous waves swung her
about on the rocks, and she divided amidships, engulfing all on
board. Shortly afterwards she also parted at the forehatch, throwing
a large number of persons into the sea. Many were killed by the
breaking up of the ship. Several of the crew saved themselves by
means of the hawser to the shore, while the remainder were hurled
upon the rocks by the waves. All the officers perished. Captain
Taylor was the last man seen alive on board. He had lashed his body
to a spar and was drowned.' [Some affirm he was killed, after he
was in the sea, by a boat falling from its davits. It is said he and
Mr. Cowie, the second officer, were seen together, and that the boat
struck both at once. Mr. Stevens, the first officer, and Mr. Rogers,
the chief engineer, were--runs the main body of testimony--also
killed together by the falling of a suspended boat upon the deck.]
'Mr. Stevens, the chief officer, was killed, it is thought, by the
falling rigging. Several of the more fortunate passengers received
severe injuries while struggling for life. With the exception of a
portion of the midship bulkhead, which appears a few feet above the
water, there is scarcely a vestige of the "Royal Charter" remaining.
The bullion chest, which was substantially built of iron, and
secured to the framing of the ship, is supposed to have been
shattered, from the fact of a gold box having been picked up with
the address of a leading banking firm upon it.' [The subsequent
operations of the divers have, up to the time I am writing, tended
to confirm this hypothesis, although assurances at fifty, sixty, and
eighty per cent. are still being effected at Lloyd's.]
'About two hundred and fifty sovereigns and a quantity of notes had
been picked up among the rocks.
'At least thirty bodies which have been cast ashore are lying in the
adjacent church; most of them are frightfully mutilated. William
Hughes, the only apprentice saved, states that when the vessel
parted he was in the waist, and was precipitated among the
machinery, which was hurled to and fro by the action of the waves.
He had given himself up for lost, when a wave lifted him clear of
the ship, and landed him in an unconscious state. The survivors
during their stay at the scene of the wreck were very kindly
treated. Two ladies made themselves conspicuous by their attention
to the sufferers. It is stated that all the boats were in perfect
readiness for lowering had circumstances permitted.' [Some of the
passengers say the boats _were_ launched, and were dashed to pieces
on the rocks.]
The second correspondent's letter is equally interesting. Of course a
number of persons describing one event will, as has been often pointed
out, fall into discrepancies of statement. It is not for me to make
the reports uniform. I have thrown in a parenthetical explanation here
and there; but otherwise the several newspapers must speak for, and
explain, themselves. The second communication runs thus:--
'The "Royal Charter" did not, as was at first stated, strike the
ground in Red Wharf Bay, but a place between that point and Amlwch.
It is a small opening in the coast, the beach being chiefly sand and
stones. It is to the west of Point Lynas, and known as Molfra, a
village in the immediate locality, being of that name. The coast is
thinly inhabited, and the land flat and uncultivated. Very soon
after the fatal catastrophe, which resulted in such an awful
sacrifice of human life, the vessel broke up, and nothing remains
but pieces of the wreck, which were moved to and fro by the action
of the tide. As one of the seamen described it, she broke up like a
bandbox.
'Those of the crew and passengers who escaped were provided with
temporary accommodation in the neighbouring cottages, where they
received every mark of kindness from the inhabitants. During the day
most of them left the place, and were conveyed to Liverpool in
steam-tugs sent out by the owners of the ship.' [And were, it is
said, shamefully treated after their arrival. But of this in time.]
'Last (Friday) evening only one passenger remained, Mr. Russell,
with the boatswain's mate and the carpenter of the ship. Many
persons visited the scene of the wreck yesterday, and were making
anxious inquiries as to the fate of relatives and friends. For this
purpose every facility was afforded. Some of the scenes arising out
of these inquiries amongst those deprived of their nearest relatives
and friends were affecting in the extreme. Shortly after the wreck
several of the bodies of the unfortunate sufferers by the calamity
floated upon the beach; subsequently others were picked up, and the
number amounted at a late hour last evening to twenty-six. Of these,
five were females, and two of them young children. The bodies were
conveyed to Llanallgo church, and carefully laid out on straw, so as
to afford an opportunity for identification. Some had on their
clothing, while others were only partially dressed, as though when
the vessel struck they had been in their berths, and rushed suddenly
to the deck in a state of alarm on being made acquainted with the
perilous position of the ship. Many of the bodies bore evidence of
injuries, probably sustained from being dashed against the rocks, or
coming into violent contact with portions of the wreck. One man had
nearly all his limbs broken, and the body had, as it were, to be
gathered up. Another was without the head, and several were much
bruised on various parts of the body. Some small boats and papers
were picked up yesterday on the beach. One of the papers appeared to
be a diary kept by a passenger on board, supposed to be a clergyman
of Nottingham. The various incidents of the voyage, from the time
of leaving Melbourne until the arrival at Queenstown, were carefully
recorded by the writer.' [This is doubtless Mr. Hodge, a good man
who _would_ keep a diary.] 'The riggers previously referred to as
being on board the "Royal Charter" when she grounded have lost six
of their number, namely, James O'Neill, Richard Morris, William
Thomas, Peter Topping, Thomas Corcoran, and Henry White. Those saved
are James White, Patrick Devine, ---- Pritchard, Thomas Cunningham,
and William Burton. Some of them swam ashore, and others succeeded
in saving themselves by the aid of the hawser. So far none of the
passengers' luggage or articles of a similar kind have been washed
on shore.' [Much was afterwards found, as will be seen.] 'A few
articles of male and female attire have been collected, and these
are taken care of by the officers of police and coast-guard now on
duty. The services of the Anglesea militia have also been called
into requisition, to assist in the protection of any property
received, and also in the removal of the bodies washed up on the
shore. The position of the vessel at the time of the catastrophe,
and whether or not blame attaches to the captain or his officers,
were subjects of comment amongst many of those who visited the spot
yesterday. At present it would be unfair to give currency to these
remarks, seeing that the matter will undergo a strict investigation
at the coroner's inquest. The number of persons saved is now stated
to be thirty-nine; and of these, twenty-one are passengers, and the
remainder belong to the crew. Only very few of the bodies recovered
have yet been identified. A gentleman attended yesterday, to make
inquiry as to his wife, whom he supposed to be on board the "Royal
Charter." The body of his beloved partner was not amongst those
lying in the church, but on a closer investigation, his eye fell on
the corpse of a faithful servant, who, he felt sure, would accompany
his wife on the voyage. This fact too truly told the mournful
result.
'The man who swam on shore with the hawser was a Maltese, and not a
Portuguese, as first said. He lost everything he possessed, and
swooned when he reached land.'
Depend upon it that man ("heroism has no country") will be rewarded.
We shall not do here as was done in Sydney when the 'Dunbar' was
lost,--allow our sympathy to expend itself upon the saved to the all
but utter forgetfulness of the saviour.