all into the sea. The negroes had told them that they were very near
the shore, and that, when there, they would enable them to traverse
Africa without danger. We had to take to our arms again, the sailors,
who had remained faithful to us, pointing out to us the conspirators.
The first signal for battle was given by a Spaniard, who, placing
himself behind the mast, holding fast by it, made the sign of the
Cross with one hand, invoking the name of God, and with the other held
a knife. The sailors seized him and threw him into the sea. An
Italian, servant to an officer of the troops, who was in the plot,
seeing all was discovered, armed himself with the only boarding axe
left on the raft, made his retreat to the front, enveloped himself in
a piece of drapery he wore across his breast, and of his own accord
threw himself into the sea. The rebels rushed forward to avenge their
comrades; a terrible conflict again commenced; both sides fought with
desperate fury; and soon the fatal raft was strewed with dead bodies
and blood, which should have been shed by other hands, and in another
cause. In this tumult we heard them again demanding, with horrid rage,
the head of Lieut. Danglas! In this assault the unfortunate sutler was
a second time thrown into the sea. M. Coudin, assisted by some
workmen, saved her, to prolong for a little while her torment and her
existence.
In this terrible night Lavilette failed not to give proofs of the
rarest intrepidity. It was to him and some of those who had survived
the sequel of our misfortunes, that we owed our safety. At last, after
unheard of efforts, the rebels were once more repulsed, and quiet
restored. Having escaped this new danger, we endeavored to get some
repose. The day at length dawned upon us for the fifth time. We were
now no more than thirty in number. We had lost four or five of our
faithful sailors, and those who survived were in the most deplorable
condition. The sea-water had almost entirely excoriated the skin of
our lower extremities; we were covered with contusions or wounds,
which, irritated by the salt water, extorted from us the most piercing
cries. About twenty of us only were capable of standing upright or
walking. Almost all our fish was exhausted; we had but four days'
supply of wine: in four days, said we, nothing will be left, and death
will be inevitable. Thus came the seventh day of our abandonment. In
the course of the day two soldiers had glided behind the only barrel
of wine that was left; pierced it, and were drinking by means of a
reed. We had sworn that those who used such means should be punished
with death; which law was instantly put in execution, and the two
transgressors were thrown into the sea.
This same day saw the close of the life of a child named Leon, aged
twelve years. He died like a lamp which ceases to burn for want of
aliment. All spoke in favor of this young and amiable creature, who
merited a better fate. His angelic form, his musical voice, the
interest of an age so tender increased still more by the courage he
had shown, and the services he had performed, for he had already made
in the preceding year a campaign in the East Indies, inspired us all
with the greatest pity for this young victim, devoted to so horrible
and premature a death. Our old soldiers and all our people in general
did everything they could to prolong his existence, but all was in
vain. Neither the wine which they gave him without regret, nor all the
means they employed, could arrest his melancholy doom, and he expired
in the arms of M. Coudin, who had not ceased to give him the most
unwearied attention. Whilst he had strength to move, he ran
incessantly from one side to the other, loudly calling for his unhappy
mother, for water and food. He trod indiscriminately on the feet and
legs of his companions in misfortune, who, in their turn, uttered
sorrowful cries, but these were very rarely accompanied with menaces;
they pardoned all which the poor boy had made them suffer. He was not
in his senses, consequently could not be expected to behave as if he
had had the use of his reason.
There now remained but twenty-seven of us. Fifteen of that number
seemed able to live yet some days; the rest, covered with large
wounds, had almost entirely lost the use of their reason. They still,
however, shared in the distributions, and would, before they died,
consume to thirty or forty bottles of wine, which to us were
inestimable. We deliberated, that by putting the sick on half
allowance was but putting them to death by halves: but after a
counsel, at which presided the most dreadful despair, it was decided
they should be thrown into the sea. This means, however repugnant,
however horrible it appeared to us, procured the survivors six days
wine. But after the decision was made, who durst execute it? The habit
of seeing death ready to devour us; the certainty of our infallible
destruction without this monstrous expedient; all, in short, had
hardened our hearts to every feeling but that of self-preservation.
Three sailors and a soldier took charge of this cruel business. We
looked aside and shed tears of blood at the fate of these
unfortunates. Among them were the wretched sutler and her husband.
Both had been grievously wounded in the different combats. The woman
had a thigh broken between the beams of the raft, and a stroke of a
sabre had made a deep wound in the head of her husband. Every thing
announced their approaching end. We consoled ourselves with the belief
that our cruel resolution shortened but a brief space the term of
their existence. Ye who shudder at the cry of outraged humanity,
recollect, that it was other men, fellow-countrymen, comrades who had
placed us in this awful situation!
This horrible expedient saved the fifteen who remained; for when we
were found by the Argus brig, we had very little wine left, and it was
the sixth day after the cruel sacrifice we have described. The
victims, we repeat, had not more than forty-eight hours to live, and
by keeping them on the raft, we would have been absolutely destitute
of the means of existence two days before we were found. Weak as we
were, we considered it as a certain thing, that it would have been
impossible for us to have lived only twenty-four hours more without
taking some food. After this catastrophe, we threw our arms into the
sea; they inspired us with a horror we could not overcome. We only
kept one sabre, in case we had to cut some cordage or some piece of
wood.
A new event, for everything was an event to wretches to whom the world
was reduced to the narrow space of a few toises, and for whom the
winds and waves contended in their fury as they floated above the
abyss; an event happened which diverted our minds from the horrors of
our situation. All on a sudden a white butterfly, of a species common
in France, came fluttering above our heads, and settled on our sails.
The first thought this little creature suggested was, that it was the
harbinger of approaching land, and we clung to the hope with a
delirium of joy. It was the ninth day we had been upon the raft; the
torments of hunger consumed our entrails; and the soldiers and sailors
already devoured with haggard eyes this wretched prey, and seemed
ready to dispute about it. Others looking upon it as a messenger from
Heaven, declared that they took it under their protection, and would
suffer none to do it harm. It is certain we could not be far from
land, for the butterflies continued to come on the following days, and
flutter about our sail. We had also on the same day another indication
not less positive, by a Goeland which flew around our raft. This
second visitor left us no doubt that we were fast approaching the
African soil, and we persuaded ourselves we would be speedily thrown
upon the coast by the force of the currents.
This same day a new care employed us. Seeing we were reduced to so
small a number, we collected all the little strength we had left,
detached some planks on the front of the raft, and, with some pretty
long pieces of wood, raised on the centre a kind of platform, on which
we reposed. All the effects we could collect were placed upon it, and
rendered to make it less hard; which also prevented the sea from
passing with such facility through the spaces between the different
planks, but the waves came across, and sometimes covered us
completely.
On this new theatre we resolved to meet death in a manner becoming
Frenchmen, and with perfect resignation. Our time was almost wholly
spent in speaking of our unhappy country. All our wishes, our last
prayers, were for the prosperity of France. Thus passed the last days
of our abode upon the raft.
Soon after our abandonment, we bore with comparative ease the
immersions during the nights, which are very cold in these countries;
but latterly, every time the waves washed over us, we felt a most
painful sensation, and we uttered plaintive cries. We employed every
means to avoid it. Some supported their heads on pieces of wood, and
made with what they could find a sort of little parapet to screen them
from the force of the waves; others sheltered themselves behind two
empty casks. But these means were very insufficient: it was only when
the sea was calm that it did not break over us.
An ardent thirst, redoubled in the day by the beams of a burning sun,
consumed us. An officer of the army found by chance a small lemon, and
it may be easily imagined how valuable such a fruit would be to him.
His comrades, in spite of the most urgent entreaties, could not get a
bit of it from him. Signs of rage were already manifested, and had he
not partly listened to the solicitations of those around him, they
would have taken it by force, and he would have perished the victim of
his selfishness. We also disputed about thirty cloves of garlic which
were found in the bottom of a sack. These disputes were for the most
part accompanied with violent menaces, and if they had been prolonged,
we might perhaps have come to the last extremities. There was found
also two small phials, in which was a spirituous liquid for cleaning
the teeth. He who possessed them kept them with care, and gave with
reluctance one or two drops in the palm of the hand. This liquor
which, we think, was a tincture of guiacum, cinnamon, cloves, and
other aromatic substances, produced on our tongues an agreeable
feeling, and for a short while removed the thirst which destroyed us.
Some of us found some small pieces of powder, which made, when put
into the mouth, a kind of coolness. One plan generally employed was to
put into a hat a quantity of sea-water with which we washed our faces
for a while, repeating it at intervals. We also bathed our hair and
held our hands in the water. Misfortune made us ingenious, and each
thought of a thousand means to alleviate his sufferings. Emaciated by
the most cruel privations, the least agreeable feeling was to us a
happiness supreme. Thus we sought with avidity a small empty phial
which one of us possessed, and in which had once been some essence of
roses; and every one as he got hold of it respired with delight the
odor it exhaled, which imparted to his senses the most soothing
impressions. Many of us kept our ration of wine in a small tin cup,
and sucked it out with a quill. This manner of taking it was of great
benefit to us, and allayed our thirst much better than if we had
gulped it off at once.
Three days passed in inexpressible anguish. So much did we despise
life, that many of us feared not to bathe in sight of the sharks which
surrounded our raft; others placed themselves naked upon the front of
our machine, which was under water. These expedients diminished a
little the ardor of their thirst. A species of molusca, known to
seamen by the name of gatere, was sometimes driven in great numbers on
our raft; and when their long arms rested on our naked bodies, they
occasioned us the most cruel sufferings. Will it be believed, that
amidst these terrible scenes, struggling with inevitable death, some
of us uttered pleasantries which made us yet smile, in spite of the
horrors of our situation? One, besides others, said jestingly, 'If the
brig is sent to search for us, pray God it has the eyes of Argus,' in
allusion to the name of the vessel we presumed would be sent to our
assistance. This consolatory idea never left us an instant, and we
spoke of it frequently.
On the 16th, reckoning we were very near land, eight of the most
determined among us resolved to endeavor to gain the coast. A second
raft, of smaller dimensions, was formed for transporting them thither:
but it was found insufficient, and they at length determined to await
death in their present situation. Meanwhile night came on, and its
sombre veil revived in our minds the most afflicting thoughts. We were
convinced there were not above a dozen or fifteen bottles of wine in
our barrel. We began to have an invincible disgust at the flesh which
had till then scarcely supported us; and we may say, that the sight of
it inspired us with feelings of horror, doubtless produced by the idea
of our approaching destruction.
On the morning of the 17th, the sun appeared free from clouds. After
having addressed our prayers to the Eternal, we divided among us a
part of our wine. Each, with delight, was taking his small portion,
when a captain of infantry, casting his eyes on the horizon, perceived
a ship, announced it to us by an exclamation of joy. We knew it to be
a brig, but it was at a great distance; we could distinguish the
masts. The sight of this vessel revived in us emotions difficult to
describe. Each believed his deliverance sure, and we gave a thousand
thanks to God. Fears, however, mingled with our hopes. We straightened
some hoops of casks, to the ends of which we fixed handkerchiefs of
different colors. A man, with our united assistance, mounted to the
top of the mast, and waved these little flags. For more than half an
hour, we were tossed between hope and fear. Some thought the vessel
grew larger, and others were convinced its course was from us. These
last were the only ones whose eyes were not blinded by hope, for the
ship disappeared.
From the delirium of joy, we passed to that of despondency and sorrow.
We envied the fate of those whom we had seen perish at our sides; and
we said to ourselves, 'When we shall be in want of everything, and
when our strength begins to forsake us, we will wrap ourselves up as
well as we can, we will stretch ourselves on this platform, the
witness of the most cruel sufferings, and there await death with
resignation.' At length, to calm our despair, we sought for
consolation in the arm of sleep. The day before, we had been scorched
by the beams of a burning sun: to-day, to avoid the fierceness of his
rays, we made a tent with the main-sail of the frigate. As soon as it
was finished, we laid ourselves under it; thus all that was passing
without was hid from our eyes. We proposed then to write upon a plank
an abridgement of our adventures, and to add our names at the bottom
of the recital, and fix it to the upper part of the mast, in the hope
it would reach the government and our families.
After having passed two hours, a prey to the most cruel reflections,
the master gunner of the frigate, wishing to go to the front of the
raft, went out from below the tent. Scarcely had he put out his head,
when he turned to us, uttering a piercing cry. Joy was painted upon
his face; his hands were stretched towards the sea; he breathed with
difficulty. All he was able to say was; 'SAVED! SEE THE BRIG UPON US!'
and in fact it was not more than half a league distant having every
sail set, and steering right upon us. We rushed from our tent; even
those whom enormous wounds in their inferior extremities had confined
for many days, dragged themselves to the back of the raft, to enjoy a
sight of the ship which had come to save us from certain death. We
embraced one another with a transport which looked much like madness,
and tears of joy trickled down our cheeks, withered by the most cruel
privations. Each seized handkerchiefs, or some pieces of linen, to
make signals to the brig, which was rapidly approaching us. Some fell
on their knees, and fervently returned thanks to Providence for this
miraculous preservation of their lives. Our joy redoubled when saw we
at the top of the fore-mast a large white flag, and we cried, 'It is
then to Frenchmen we will owe our deliverance.' We instantly
recognised the brig to be the Argus; it was then about two gunshots
from us. We were terribly impatient to see her reef her sails, which
at last she did, and fresh cries of joy arose from our raft. The Argus
came and lay-to on our starboard, about half a pistol-shot from us.
The crew, ranged upon the deck and on the shrouds, announced to us, by
the waving of their hands and hats, the pleasure they felt at coming
to the assistance of their unfortunate countrymen. In a short time we
were all transported on board the brig, where we found the lieutenant
of the frigate, and some others who had been wrecked with us.
Compassion was painted on every face, and pity drew tears from every
eye which beheld us.
We found some excellent broth on board the brig, which they had
prepared, and when they had perceived us they added to it some wine,
and thus restored our nearly exhausted strength. They bestowed on us
the most generous care and attention; our wounds were dressed, and on
the morrow many of our sick began to revive. Some, however, still
suffered much, for they were placed between decks, very near the
kitchen, which augmented the almost insupportable heat of these
latitudes. This want of space arose from the small size of the vessel.
The number of the shipwrecked was indeed very considerable. Those who
did not belong to the navy were laid upon cables, wrapped in flags,
and placed under the fire of the kitchen. Here they had almost
perished during the course of the night, fire having broken out
between decks about ten in the evening; but timely assistance being
rendered, we were saved for the second time. We had scarcely escaped
when some of us became again delirious. An officer of infantry wished
to throw himself into the sea, to look for his pocket book, and would
have done it had he not been prevented. Others were seized in a manner
not less frenzied.
The commander and officers of the brig watched over us, and kindly
anticipated our wants. They snatched us from death, by saving us from
our raft; their unremitting care revived within us the spark of life.
The surgeon of the ship, M. Renaud, distinguished himself for his
indefatigable zeal. He was obliged to spend the whole of the day in
dressing our wounds; and during the two days we were in the brig, he
bestowed on us all the aid of his art, with an attention and
gentleness which merit our eternal gratitude.
In truth, it was time we should find an end of our sufferings; they
had lasted thirteen days, in the most cruel manner. The strongest
among us might have lived forty-eight hours or so, longer. M. Correard
felt that he must die in the course of the day; he had, however a
presentiment we would be saved. He said, that a series of events so
unheard of would not be buried in oblivion; that Providence would at
least preserve some of us to tell to the world the melancholy story of
our misfortunes.
Such is the faithful history of those who were left upon the memorable
raft. Of one hundred and fifty, fifteen only were saved. Five of that
number never recovered from their fatigue, and died at St. Louis.
Those who yet live are covered with scars; and the cruel sufferings to
which they have been exposed, have materially shaken their
constitutions.
THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.
On the 29th of August, 1782, it was found necessary that the Royal
George, a line-of-battle ship of 108 guns, which had lately arrived at
Spithead from a cruise, should, previously to her going again to sea,
undergo the operation which seamen technically call a Parliament heel.
In such cases the ship is inclined in a certain degree on one side,
while the defects below the water-mark on the other side are examined
and repaired. This mode of proceeding is, we believe at the present
day, very commonly adopted where the defects to be repaired are not
extensive, or where (as was the case with the Royal George) it is
desirable to avoid the delay of going into dock. The operation is
usually performed in still weather and smooth water, and is attended
with so little difficulty and danger, that the officers and crew
usually remain on board, and neither the guns nor stores are removed.
The business was commenced on the Royal George early in the morning, a
gang of men from the Portsmouth Dock-yard coming on board to assist
the ship's carpenters. It is said that, finding it necessary to strip
off more of the sheathing than had been intended, the men in their
eagerness to reach the defect in the ship's bottom, were induced to
heel her too much, when a sudden squall of wind threw her wholly on
her side; and the gun-ports being open, and the cannon rolling over to
the depressed side, the ship was unable to right herself,
instantaneously filled with water, and went to the bottom.
The fatal accident happened about ten o'clock in the morning. Admiral
Kempenfeldt was writing in his cabin, and the greater part of the
people were between decks. The ship, as is usually the case upon
coming into port, was crowded with people from the shore, particularly
women, of whom it is supposed there were not less than three hundred
on board. Amongst the sufferers were many of the wives and children of
the petty officers and seamen, who, knowing the ship was shortly to
sail on a distant and perilous service, eagerly embraced the
opportunity of visiting their husbands and fathers.
The Admiral, with many brave officers and most of those who were
between decks, perished; the greater number of the guard, and those
who happened to be on the upper deck, were saved by the boats of the
fleet. About seventy others were likewise saved. The exact number of
persons on board at the time could not be ascertained; but it was
calculated that from 800 to 1000 were lost. Captain Waghorn whose
gallantry in the North Sea Battle, under Admiral Parker, had procured
him the command of this ship, was saved, though he was severely
bruised and battered; but his son, a lieutenant in the Royal George,
perished. Such was the force of the whirlpool, occasioned by the
sudden plunge of so vast a body in the water, that a victualler which
lay alongside the Royal George was swamped; and several small craft,
at a considerable distance, were in imminent danger.
Admiral Kempenfeldt, who was nearly 70 years of age, was peculiarly
and universally lamented. In point of general science and judgment, he
was one of the first naval officers of his time; and, particularly in
the art of manoeuvring a fleet, he was considered by the commanders of
that day as unrivalled. His excellent qualities, as a man, are said to
have equalled his professional merits.
This melancholy occurrence has been recorded by the poet Cowper, in
the following beautiful lines:--
Toll for the brave!
The brave, that are no more:
All sunk beneath the wave,
Fast by their native shore.
Eight hundred of the brave,
Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel,
And laid her on her side.
A land-breeze shook the shrouds,
And she was overset;
Down went the Royal George,
With all her crew complete.
Toll for the brave!
Brave Kempenfeldt is gone;
His last sea-fight is fought;
His work of glory done.
It was not in the battle;
No tempest gave the shock,
She sprang no fatal leak;
She ran upon no rock.
His sword was in its sheath;
His fingers held the pen,
When Kempenfeldt went down,
With twice four hundred men.
Weigh the vessel up,
Once dreaded by our foes!
And mingle with our cup
The tear that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound,
And she may float again,
Full charg'd with England's thunder
And plough the distant main.
But Kempenfeldt is gone,
His victories are o'er;
And he, and his eight hundred,
Shall plough the wave no more.
LOSS OF THE AENEAS TRANSPORT.
The AEneas transport sailed with 347 souls on board, including a party
of men belonging to the 100th regiment of foot, as also some officers,
together with several women and children. About four in the morning of
the 23d of Oct. 1805, the vessel struck violently on a rock, and
received such damage that her total wreck soon became evident to all
on board. For the first few minutes after this alarming occurrence,
the women and children clung to their husbands and fathers; but in a
short time, a prodigious wave swept not less than 250 of those
miserable people into the ocean. The rock whereon the vessel had
struck, speedily forced its way through the decks, and then it
appears, from her parting, thirty-five of the survivors were driven on
a small island before eight in the morning, about a quarter of a mile
distant, but when she had entirely gone to pieces.
The narrative of these events was collected from one of the survivors,
a soldier of the 100th regiment, who could give no correct account of
how he and the others got ashore, but he supposed they were floated in
by part of the wreck. He remembered to have observed one of the boys
endeavoring to save Major Bertram, whose arm was broken by some
timber, and he was on the point of sinking; he held him up as long as
his strength permitted; but to save his own life, was forced to let go
his hold, and the Major perished.