regiment, two of whom were officers, Lieutenant Dawson and Ensign
Faulkner, and seven sailors. Immediately on landing, the wind
unfortunately changed, so that not an article of any kind was saved
from the wreck. Mr. Faulkner was aware of the real situation they had
reached, judging the main-land, which they saw about a mile distant,
to be Newfoundland, and that they were about 300 miles distant from
the town of St. John's.
After passing one night on the little island, they constructed a raft,
by means of which, thirty of them arrived on the main-land. Previous
to this, however, four survivors of the shipwreck had died, among whom
was the poor fellow who had endeavored to save Major Bertram. Another,
who had both his legs broken, was missing, as he had crawled away from
his comrades, that he might die in quiet. But eight days afterwards,
he was found alive, though in a shocking state, as his feet were
frozen off. Yet he survived all this, and reached Quebec at a future
period. Most of the party set out, leaving three behind them, who were
unable to walk from bruises, and directed their course towards the
rising sun, but when the first day had elapsed, Lieutenant Dawson
became incapable of keeping up with the remainder; and two soldiers
staid to attend him. These three toiled onwards without any food,
except the berries which they found; and Lieutenant Dawson was then
unable to stand, unless supported.--On reaching the banks of a river,
one of the soldiers attempted to carry him across on his back; but
having waded up to the neck, he was obliged to return, and lay him
down on the bank. There Mr. Dawson entreated his faithful attendants
to make the best of their way, and leave him to his fate; and at the
same time, affectionately squeezing their hands, he entreated them to
inform his father of his melancholy end.--Here the soldier, who was
one of them, and who related these affecting incidents, burst into a
flood of tears before he could proceed. "We staid with him," said he,
"until we did not know whether he was alive or dead."
The two survivors continued wandering in a weak and feeble state for
twelve days longer, making twenty-six in all from the period of their
shipwreck, and subsisting on what they could find on a barren and
inhospitable land. But after the first four or five days, they
suffered no hunger, for, as they themselves said, their misfortunes
were so great as to banish its influence, and to deprive them of the
sense of feeling.--The snow besides was so deep during the last two
days, as to prevent them from getting the berries as usual.
At last they were found by a man belonging to a hunting party, who,
little suspecting to see human beings in that desolate region, took
them at a distance for deer, and had concealed himself behind a fallen
tree, with his gun pointed towards one of them, when his dog, leaping
towards them, began to bark, and shewed his error. When they related
their shipwreck, and the sufferings they had endured, tears stole down
the cheeks of the huntsman, and, taking the moccasins from his feet,
gave them to the poor miserable creatures. He invited them to his
hunting cabin, saying it was only a mile off, though the real distance
was at least twelve miles; but, by degrees he enticed them to proceed,
and at length they gained it. On approaching the hut, four or five men
came out with long bloody knives in their hands, when the narrator,
turning to his comrade, exclaimed, "After all we have escaped, are we
brought here to be butchered and ate up?"--But they soon discovered
their mistake, for the men had been cutting up some deer, the fruit of
their chase; and the appearance of the unfortunate soldiers quickly
exciting sentiments of pity in their breast, they produced a bottle of
rum, wherewith they were refreshed.
Every possible comfort was ministered by the hunters to the
unfortunate wanderers, and, from the accounts and description given to
them, they set out in quest of the others. They luckily succeeded in
finding the man who remained the first day on the island, and also
the other two who were unable to leave the shore.
The two men who had accompanied Lieutenant Dawson, appeared to have
made but little progress during twenty-six days of travelling, for
they were discovered in a place not very remote from whence they set
out. Thus, involved among the woods, they must have returned over the
same ground that they had passed.
Those who the huntsman first met endeavored to make them understand
where they might find the remains of Lieutenant Dawson, and Ensign
Faulkner and his party, but they could speak too vaguely of where they
had themselves been, to give any pointed directions on the subject.
But two of the latter were found by a man on another hunting
excursion, about 90 miles distant, apparently lifeless; though on
being carried to an adjacent settlement they recovered. Of the whole
35 who survived the wreck of the transport, accounts could be heard
only of these five.
Ensign Faulkner was a strong, active, enterprising man, and fully
capable of adopting whatever means could be devised for preservation.
Both he and Lieutenant Dawson, who was scarce more than 17 years of
age, were of the greatest promise. While the transport lay about three
miles from Portsmouth, they are said to have swam to the ship, when
the former climbed up her side, but the latter was nearly exhausted.
A brig from Port, which touched at Newfoundland, carried five of the
survivors from thence to Quebec; and when they arrived there in the
barrack square, a most affecting scene ensued. Men and women eagerly
flocked around them, with anxious inquiries for some friend or brother
who was on board the ill-fated vessel. But all they could answer was,
"If you do not see him here, be assured he has perished; for, of 347
souls, we five Irish lads and two sailors are all that remain alive."
The tears and exclamations following these words can scarce be
described.
THE ABSENT SHIP.
Fair ship, I saw thee bounding o'er the deep,
Thy white wings glancing in the morning ray
And many a sparkling eye in vain did weep
For the bold hearts that steer'd thee on thy way:
Long days of grief have lingered into years:
Return! return! and charm away their tears.
I listen'd till the music and the song
Died on the waters as she swept along;
I watch'd her stately beauty, till it grew
A fading shadow on the distant blue;
Less, and still less--the waters are alone!
Queen of the ocean! whither art thou gone?
The wintry storm hath sighed itself to sleep,
Yet still thou lingerest on the faithless deep;
Have calmer seas, and skies of deeper blue,
Charm'd thee to bid thine island home adieu!
Long has yon dark-eye'd maiden wept in vain:
Return! return! and bid her smile again.
Long may'st thou weep, but never shalt thou see
Thy fair-hair'd mariner return to thee,
Clasp thy young beauty in a long embrace,
And read his pardon in thy happy face;
Thy gentle prayers, fair mourner, could not save!
Thy sailor sleeps within the stormy wave.
[Illustration: WRECK OF THE HALSEWELL, ON THE COAST OF ENGLAND]
LOSS OF THE HALSEWELL.
The catastrophe which is now about to be related made a deep
impression on the public mind. The circumstances attending it were too
aggravating not to excite the highest degree of commiseration, whether
from the flattering prospects held forth in the outset of the voyage,
or from a peculiar feeling towards the condition of the sufferers.
The Halsewell East Indiaman, of 758 tons burthen, commanded by Captain
Richard Pierce, was taken up by the directors of the East India
Company to make her third voyage to Coast and Bay. On the 16th of
November 1785, she fell down to Gravesend, where she completed her
lading. Ladies and other passengers being taken on board at the Hope,
she sailed through the Downs on Sunday the 1st of January 1786; and,
when abreast of Dunnose next morning, the weather fell calm.
This was one of the finest ships in the service, and judged to be in
the most perfect condition for her voyage. Her commander was of
distinguished ability and exemplary character; his officers of
approved fidelity and unquestionable knowledge in their profession,
and the crew not only as numerous as the East India establishment
admits, but the best seamen that could be collected. To these were
added a considerable body of soldiers, destined to recruit the forces
of the East India Company in Asia.
The passengers were seven ladies, two of whom were daughters to the
captain, and other two his relations. Miss Elizabeth Blackburne,
daughter of Captain Blackburne; Miss Mary Haggard, sister to an
officer on the Madras establishment, and Miss Anne Mansel, a child of
European parents residing in Madras, returning from her education in
England. There was also Mr. John George Schutz, returning to collect
part of his fortune, which he had left behind him in India.
The ladies were equally distinguished by their beauty and
accomplishments; the gentlemen of amiable manners, and of a highly
respectable character. Mr. Burston, the chief mate, was also related
to Captain Pierce's lady, and the whole formed a happy society united
in friendship. Nothing could be more pleasing or encouraging than the
outset of the voyage.
On Monday the 2d of January, a breeze from the south sprung up at
three in the afternoon, when the ship ran in shore to land the pilot.
Very thick weather coming on in the evening, and the wind baffling,
she was obliged to anchor, at nine o'clock, in eighteen fathom water.
The topsails were furled, but the people could not furl the courses,
the snow falling thick and freezing as it fell.
Next morning at four a strong gale came on from east-north-east, and
the ship shivering, they were obliged to cut the cables and run out to
sea. At noon they spoke with a brig bound to Dublin, and, having put
the pilot on board of her, immediately bore down channel. The wind
freshening at eight in the evening, and coming round to the southward,
such sails were reefed as were judged necessary. It blew a violent
gale at ten o'clock from the south, whence they were obliged to carry
a press of sail to keep the ship off shore.--In doing this, the
hawse-plugs, which according to a late improvement, were put inside,
were washed in, and the hawse-bags washed away, in consequence of
which the vessel shipped a large quantity of water on the gun-deck.
On sounding the well, and finding the ship had sprung a leak, and now
had five feet water in the hold, the people clewed up the
main-topsail, hauled up the mainsail, and immediately endeavored to
furl both, but could not effect it. On discovering the leak all the
pumps were set to work.
At two in the morning of Wednesday the fourth, they tried to wear the
ship, but without success, and judging it necessary to cut away the
mizen-mast, this was immediately done, when another attempt made to
wear her was equally fruitless as the former. The ship had now seven
feet water in the hold which was gaining fast on the pumps, therefore,
for her preservation it was considered expedient to cut away the
mainmast, as she appeared to be in immediate danger of foundering.
In the fall of the mast, Jonathan Moreton, coxswain, and four men,
were either drawn along with the wreck, or fell overboard and were
drowned. By eight in the morning the wreck was cleared, and the ship
got before the wind, in which position she was kept two hours.
Meantime the pumps reduced the water in the hold two feet, and the
ship's head was brought to the eastward with the foresail only.
At ten in the morning the wind abated considerably, but the ship
labouring extremely, rolled the fore-topmast over on the larboard
side, and, in the fall, the wreck went through the foresail, tearing
it to pieces. At eleven the wind came to the westward, and the weather
clearing up, the Berryhead was distinguishable, bearing north and by
east, distant four or five leagues. Another foresail was now
immediately bent, a jury-mainmast erected and a top-gallantsail set
for a mainsail, under which sail Captain Pierce bore up for
Portsmouth, and employed the remainder of the day in getting up a
jury-mizen-mast.
At two next morning, the wind came to the southward, blowing fresh,
the weather being very thick. Portland was seen at noon, bearing north
and by east, distant two or three leagues. At night, it blew a strong
gale at south, at which time the Portland lights were then seen,
bearing north-west, distant four or five leagues. The ship was then
wore, and her head got round to the westward; but finding she lost
ground on that tack, the captain wore her again, and kept stretching
on to the eastward, in hopes to have weathered Peverel Point, in which
case he intended to have anchored in Studland Bay. It cleared at
eleven at night, and St. Alban's Head was seen a mile and a half to
the leeward, on which, sail was instantly taken in, and the small
bower anchor let go, which brought up the ship at a whole cable. She
rode for about an hour, but then drove; the sheet anchor was now let
go, and a whole cable wore away, and the ship rode for about two hours
longer, when she drove again.
While in this situation, the captain sent for Mr. Henry Meriton, the
second mate, and asked his opinion as to the probability of saving the
lives of those on board; to which he replied with equal calmness and
candor, that he apprehended there was very little hope of it, as the
ship was driving fast on shore, and might every moment be expected to
strike. The boats were then mentioned, but it was agreed, that
although at that time they could be of very little use, yet in case an
opportunity of making them serviceable should present itself, it was
proposed that the officers should be confidentially requested to
reserve the long boat for the ladies and themselves; and this
precaution was immediately taken.
About two in the morning of Friday the sixth of January, the ship
still driving, and approaching very fast to the shore, the same
officer went again into the cuddy, where the captain then was. Another
conversation taking place, Captain Pierce expressed extreme anxiety
for the preservation of his beloved daughters, and earnestly asked the
officer if he could devise any method of saving them. On his answering
with great concern, that he feared it would be impossible, but that
their only chance would be to wait for morning, the captain lifted up
his hands in silent and distressful ejaculation.
At this dreadful moment, the ship struck, with such violence as to
dash the heads of those standing in the cuddy against the deck above
them, and the shock was accompanied by a shriek of horror that burst
at one instant from every quarter of the ship.
Many of the seamen, who had been remarkably inattentive and remiss in
their duty during a great part of the storm, now poured upon deck,
where no exertions of the officers could keep them, while their
assistance might have been useful.--They had actually skulked in their
hammocks, leaving the working of the pumps and other necessary labours
to the officers of the ship, and the soldiers, who had made uncommon
exertions. Roused by a sense of their danger, the same seamen, at this
moment, in frantic exclamations, demanded of heaven and their fellow
sufferers, that succour which their own efforts timely made might
possibly have procured.
The ship continued to beat on the rocks, and soon bilging, fell with
her broadside towards the shore. When she struck, a number of men
climbed up the ensign-staff, under an apprehension of her immediately
going to pieces.
Mr. Meriton, the second mate, at this crisis offered to these unhappy
beings the best advice which could be given; he recommended that all
should come to the side of the ship lying lowest on the rocks, and
singly to take the opportunities which might then offer, of escaping
to the shore.
Having thus provided to the utmost of his power, for the safety of the
desponding crew, he returned to the round-house, where, by this time,
all the passengers, and most of the officers had assembled. The latter
were employed in offering consolation to the unfortunate ladies, and
with unparalleled magnanimity, suffering their compassion for the fair
and amiable companions of their misfortunes, to prevail over the sense
of their own danger.
In this charitable work of comfort, Mr. Meriton now joined, by
assurances of his opinion, that the ship would hold together till the
morning, when all would be safe. Captain Pierce observing one of the
young gentlemen loud in his exclamations of terror, and frequently cry
that the ship was parting, cheerfully bid him be quiet, remarking,
that though the ship should go to pieces, he would not, but would be
safe enough.
It is difficult to convey a correct idea of the scene of this
deplorable catastrophe, without describing the place where it
happened.
The Halsewell struck on the rocks near Seacombe, on the island of
Purbeck, between Peverel Point and St. Alban's Head, at a part of the
shore where the cliff is of vast height, and rises almost
perpendicular from its base. But at this particular spot, the foot of
the cliff is excavated into a cavern of ten or twelve yards in depth,
and of breadth equal to the length of a large ship. The sides of the
cavern are so nearly upright as to be of extremely difficult access;
and the bottom is strewed with sharp and uneven rocks, which seem, by
some convulsion of the earth, to have been detached from its roof.
The ship lay with her broadside opposite to the mouth of this cavern,
with her whole length stretched almost from side to side of it. But
when she struck, it was too dark for the unfortunate persons on board
to discover the real magnitude of their danger, and the extreme horror
of such a situation.--Even Mr. Meriton entertained a hope that she
might keep together till day-light; and endeavored to cheer his
drooping friends, and in particular the unhappy ladies, with this
comfortable expectation, as an answer to the captain's inquiries what
he thought of their condition.
In addition to the company already in the round-house, they had
admitted three black women and two soldier's wives, who, with the
husband of one of them, had been allowed to come in, though the
seamen, who had tumultuously demanded entrance to get the lights, had
been opposed and kept out by Mr. Rogers and Mr. Brimer, the third and
fifth mates. The numbers there were therefore now increased to near
fifty. Capt. Pierce sat on a chair, a cot or some other moveable, with
a daughter on each side, whom he alternately pressed to his
affectionate breast. The rest of the melancholy assembly were seated
on the deck, which was strewed with musical instruments, and the wreck
of furniture and other articles.
Here also Mr. Meriton, after having cut several wax candles in pieces
and stuck them up in various parts of the round-house, and lighted up
all the glass lanthorns he could find, took his seat, intending to
wait the approach of dawn; and then assist the partners of his danger
to escape. But observing that the poor ladies appeared parched and
exhausted, he brought a basket of oranges and prevailed on some of
them to refresh themselves by sucking a little of the juice. At this
time they were all tolerably composed, except Miss Mansel, who was in
hysteric fits, on the floor of the deck of the round-house.
But on Mr. Meriton's return to the company, he perceived a
considerable alteration in the appearance of the ship; the sides were
visibly giving way; the deck seemed to be lifting and he discovered
other strong indications that she could not hold much longer together.
On this account, he attempted to go forward to look out, but
immediately saw that the ship had separated in the middle, and that
the fore-part having changed its position, lay further towards the
sea. In such an emergency, when the next moment might plunge him into
eternity, he determined to seize the present opportunity, and follow
the example of the crew and the soldiers, who were now quitting the
ship in numbers, and making their way to the shore, though quite
ignorant of its nature and description.
Among other expedients, the ensign-staff had been unshipped, and
attempted to be laid between the ship's side and some of the rocks,
but without success, for it snapped assunder before it reached them.
However, by the light of a lanthorn which a seaman handed through a
sky-light of the round-house to the deck, Mr. Meriton discovered a
spar which appeared to be laid from the ship's side to the rocks, and
on this spar he resolved to attempt his escape.
Accordingly lying down upon it, he thrust himself forward; however, he
soon found that it had no communication with the rock; he reached the
end of it and then slipped off, receiving a very violent bruise in his
fall, and before he could recover his legs, he was washed off by the
surge. He now supported himself by swimming, until a returning wave
dashed him against the back part of the cavern. Here he laid hold of a
small projection in the rock, but was so much benumbed that he was on
the point of quitting it, when a seaman, who had already gained a
footing, extended his hand, and assisted him until he could secure
himself a little on the rock; from which he clambered on a shelf still
higher, and out of the reach of the surf.
Mr. Rogers, the third mate, remained with the captain, and the
unfortunate ladies and their companions, nearly twenty minutes after
Mr. Meriton had quitted the ship. Soon after the latter left the
round-house, the captain asked what was become of him, to which Mr.
Rogers replied, that he was gone on deck to see what could be done.
After this, a heavy sea breaking over the ship, the ladies exclaimed,
"O poor Meriton! he is drowned! had he staid with us he would have
been safe!" and they all, particularly Miss Mary Pierce, expressed
great concern at the apprehension of his loss. On this occasion Mr.
Rogers offered to go and call in Mr. Meriton, but it was opposed by
the ladies, from an apprehension that he might share the same fate.
The sea was now breaking in at the fore-part of the ship, and reached
as far as the mainmast. Captain Pierce gave Mr. Rogers a nod, and they
took a lamp and went together into the stern-gallery, where, after
viewing the rocks for some time, Captain Pierce asked Mr. Rogers if he
thought there was any possibility of saving the girls; to which he
replied, he feared there was none; for they could only discover the
black face of the perpendicular rock, and not the cavern which
afforded shelter to those who escaped. They then returned to the
round-house, where Mr. Rogers hung up the lamp, and Captain Pierce sat
down between his two daughters, struggling to suppress the parental
tears which burst into his eyes.
The sea continuing to break in very fast, Mr. Macmanus, a midshipman,
and Mr. Schutz, asked Mr. Rogers what they could do to escape. "Follow
me," he replied, and they all went into the stern gallery, and from
thence to the upper-quarter-gallery on the poop. While there, a very
heavy sea fell on board and the round-house gave way; Mr. Rogers heard
the ladies shriek at intervals, as if the water reached them; the
noise of the sea, at other times, drowning their voices.
Mr. Brimer had followed him to the poop, where they remained together
about five minutes; when on the breaking of this heavy sea, they
jointly seized a hen-coop. The same wave which proved fatal to some of
those below, carried him and his companion to the rock, on which they
were violently dashed and miserably bruised.