_The Wreck._[1]
_(For the Mirror.)_
All night the booming minute-gun
Had pealed along the deep,
And mournfully the rising sun
Look'd o'er the tide-worn steep,
A bark from India's coral strand,
Before the rushing blast,
Had vailed her topsails to the sand
And bowed her noble mast.
The Queenly ship! brave hearts had striven
And true ones died with her!
We saw her mighty cable riven,
Like floating gossamer!
We saw her proud flag struck that morn,
A star once o'er the seas,
Her helm beat down, her deck uptorn,
And sadder things than these!
MRS. HEMANS
Sweet romantic Cove of Torwich--repository of my youth's recollections!--A
mingled gust of feeling crosses over me, rainbow-like,--fraught with the
checkered remembrances of "life's eventful history," when I turn to the
past, and glance over the scenes of my early life.
The Bay of Torwich, on the southern coast, unites in its fullest extent
the singularly wild and picturesque, with the softer features of the
landscape. The bay consists of two headlands, about four miles apart. On
the eastern side a lofty range of rocky heights extends for a considerable
way, almost equalling those of Dovor in sublimity, and juts out into the
sea, on the assaults of which they seem to frown defiance, terminating in
a bold headland. The violence of the sea has caused extensive and
picturesque excavations and caverns; and at the end of the cliff, two
sharp rocks called the Needles, raised their heads at low water, connected
by a low, sunken reef. In a westerly gale these rocks were very dangerous
to homeward-bound ships, and I have often sat with admiration in the
heights above, watching the grotesque forms and silvery spray of the
gigantic breakers, which after being broken in their progress, heaved
their expiring rage with a shock like thunder, against the base of the
cliffs, causing a prolonged echo in the huge caverns above. About midway
between these cliffs and the western side there was another lofty headland,
which terminated the Cove of Torwich; as the sea, except at low-water in
high spring tides, washed the foot of this promontory, it was only
fordable at ebb-tide. In the middle of the intermediate space, three rocks
which might truly be called "forked promontories" from their sharp
pyramidical shape, jutted abruptly out of the beach, and were connected by
a sort of natural causeway to the main land. Beyond, a wild and rocky
valley ran inland, and the time-worn ruins of ---- Castle, beetling over
the heights, terminated the view in this direction. This valley formed the
bed of a small stream, which ran by the end of the rocks, composing a
channel by which coasting vessels could run up and discharge their cargoes
for the village of Torwich, only part of which was visible at this spot. A
natural cleft in the vein opened through the centre of these singular
rocks, resembling a lofty gothic arch, and it was my favourite pastime to
sit here in the most perfect seclusion, reading "sermons in stones" and
watching the progress of the tide till it kissed my feet, and often
surrounded me, for the flood came in with great velocity. Between these
rocks and the heights on the eastern side, there was another little
retired creek, renowned in the village annals, for the adventures of Jack
Covering, a noted smuggler on this coast, some forty years ago, with the
locality of which the reader will erewhile become better acquainted. The
magnificence of the convulsed scenery, and yawning chasms around, the deep
intonation and ceaseless roar of the ocean, all combined to awaken in the
mind of the spectator, mingled sensations of admiration and awe.
The coast receded between the eastern point of the cove to that which
terminated the Bay of Torwich, embracing what may be almost termed a
champaign country, compared with the barren scenery I have described; and
displaying the uneven surface of the richly wooded Park of Dovedale, with
the ruins of two castles.
The village of Torwich which stood on a declivity, with an opening descent
to the shore, about half a mile from the entrance of the cove, had little
communication, from the nature of its site, with the neighbouring country,
except when the all-powerful attraction of a wreck existed. Its
inhabitants were chiefly sailors or fishermen, barring a few useless
individuals like myself. I loved to study life in all its gradations--the
"March of Intellect" was yet unknown here! and though the situation
afforded such numerous advantages for smuggling, there were, rather
unaccountably, only three persons in the village connected with the coast
blockade; and it was whispered that relying on the entire seclusion of the
cove, these persons too often winked when they ought to have been astir on
their duty.
The day was far spent, when towards the close of the month of October,
18--, I wandered out to the shore to watch the flow of the evening's tide.
The weather had been unsettled for some time previous, and the rain had
fallen in torrents, with a moderate breeze, during most part of the day.
Towards evening the rain ceased, though large heavy masses of black clouds
were flying about, and backing up to seaward, accompanied with a short
gusty gale of wind. I never recollect a more dismal night. A thick haze
overspread the lower parts of the landscape, throwing the bloated masses
of clouds higher up in the horizon, into a sort of sombre relief. As I
passed a little look-out house on my way to the beach, I sauntered to a
group of sailors at their usual council, who were gazing with deep
interest at a solitary vessel dimly discernible through the fog in the
offing. As she neared us we found her to be a barque of apparently
considerable burthen, making a tack to weather the Torhead, which lay
several miles under her lee, with a strong breeze from windward. She was
evidently quite out of her reckoning from the indecision and embarassment
displayed in her movements; and the captain seemed not sufficiently aware
of the hazard he ran. I waited sometime at this place watching the
movements of the ship. The tide came roaring in with a broken swell
increased by a high spring flood; and there was that in the "wind's eye"
which betokened approaching disaster; while the gloom was increasing, and
the harsh cries and hurried flight of the sea-birds indicated tempestuous
weather.
"An ugly looking night this, Mr. ---- as I have seen for many a-day,"
remarked Harry Covering, one of the oldest of the group of sailors, and a
crony of mine. "Sink the Customs! if yon ship weathers Torhead this night,
may I never pull an oar again." "It is, indeed, a fearful-looking night,
messmate, and no time ought to be lost in the present state of the tide in
putting off to her--for if the wind holds in this part, it is great odds
indeed, that she does not go upon the Needles."
The breeze was freshening every moment; indeed the situation of the
strange ship must soon become imminently dangerous. The crew seemed at
last to have awakened from their lethargy, and were apparently making
every effort to enable her to gain an offing and weather Torhead, before
the combined force of wind and flood should render that impracticable. It
was a moment of deep interest. I am not acquainted with any event,
notwithstanding the frequency of its recurrence, that appeals more
directly to our sympathies, than a shipwreck. The mighty power of the
ocean is thus brought before us in its most striking sense, and the
general scene of disaster it occasions is almost always varied with
instances of individual sympathy for some of the wrecked. We were now
joined by the resident officer of the coast-blockade, and a party of men
were dispatched to pull off to the ship in distress, while the rest of us
hurried towards the Torhead, accompanied in our rear, (for the news had
reached the village) by a turn-out of most of its inhabitants, influenced
both by the passion of curiosity and that of expected plunder. Many of the
older class looked upon wrecking as legitimate a trade as fishing for
herrings or pilchards; while perhaps nearly all from the force of habit
and long-practised example, regarded a wreck as a booty sent them by the
elements; the scattered contents of which it was no more crime to take
than it would be to pick up any other thing cast by accident on the beach.
The sea was breaking over the needles with frightful violence when we
reached Torhead--the spray dashing almost to the summit of the cliffs. We
were now almost opposite the vessel, which appeared to be French built;
but the increasing darkness prevented our distinguishing her minutely. The,
flash of a gun from her side, amidst the deepening gloom, redoubled my
interest. A more interesting object than a solitary vessel in danger, I
cannot well conceive. I have always looked upon a ship as a living
creature--the companion of man--a thing instinct with life, walking the
waters--and our feelings are not only excited for the safety of the crew,
but for that of the vessel itself, to which we attach a degree of interest
as for a friend. A gale was now up; the boat put off to their aid was in
danger of being swamped by the surf, and found it impracticable to make
way against a violent head-wind and tide united. Nothing short of a
miracle could now save the ship; however the wind suddenly shifted a
little, and I began to hope that if she was to be wrecked, it might be
farther on the shore; as in case of her striking on the Needles, she must
almost immediately go to pieces under our eyes, without the most remote
chance of the escape of one of the crew. A sheet of light flashed
occasionally from her sides, calling for aid out of the power of man to
grant. There was a sudden lull in the wind, which sometimes happens in the
most violent tempests, though often succeeded by increased fury; and a
strong shower of sleet and rain drove most of our followers home. As it
had now become quite dark, and it was morally impossible to yield the ship
any aid till daylight, I returned to the village with melancholy
forebodings, having placed beacons on the heights.
I hastily proceeded again to the shore just before daybreak. The distant
moaning of the sea, the harsh screams of the cormorants with the desolate
nature of the spot, chilled my spirits. I had passed a sleepless night,
and the storm rose again, and raged till near daybreak with increased fury,
but the wind was now greatly hushed. The sea, however, showed marks of its
violence; the bay was white with foam, and as I proceeded, the tide, which
was just beginning to flow, roared loudly, and advanced in short breakers
wreathed with spray. The sky also looked dismally, and gave token that the
gale had not entirely passed away, though its violence had temporarily
abated. I advanced with deep interest by the peaked group of rocks, and
passed the wreck of a brig lying high and dry on the sand just before me.
The whole of the shore between the Heads, was strewed with her contents. I
never witnessed so total a wreck in so short a space of time. The violence
of the surf had completely beaten her sides out, leaving stem and stern
hanging together as by a thread, while her ribs and broken cordage and
sails, completed the picture, had any thing been wanting to perfect it. I
could moralize any day on a single bit of plank on a shore--each fragment
seems to tell its tale, and awakens a train of thoughts and feelings in
the mind; but "grim desolation" was here visibly before me.
Though I was early astir, I found that the prospect of booty had been
sufficiently powerful already to draw out not only the inhabitants of
Torwich, but great numbers of the neighbouring peasantry. But where was
the ship, about whose fate we had been so greatly interested the preceding
evening? This was manifestly not her; but I distinctly saw a large, black
hull lying under the western cliffs, half a mile distant, towards which
the people were rapidly moving. She had come ashore a little after high
water, during the night. I picked my way through the wreck strewn
around--to a small group of persons standing near me; five of them were
strangers, the crew of the brig. I learnt that my surmises were right
concerning the ship in the distance, and that the brig which was laden
with crockery came ashore about the same period.
I left these poor fellows endeavouring to rescue their little articles of
property, and took a route apart from the course of the crowd towards the
other ship. I had not gone far, when I almost stumbled over the dead body
of a young female, lying with her face uppermost, half buried in the sand--
Her very tresses clung
All tangled by the storm.
The bodies of a gentleman of foreign aspect, and that of a lad about
seventeen, (their hands still firmly clasped together, undivided even in
death,) lay close by. It was a melancholy scene. They had evidently been a
father and his children. The long boat of the vessel, which had I suppose,
taken ground here, being staved and swamped by the surf, was close beyond,
near which I observed the bodies of several other men. It was with pain
and horror I remarked that some wretches who had been here before me, had
partly stripped the bodies of the lady and others in their search after
plunder, besides rifling the contents of some cases of valuables, which
had been put into the boat. I hastily turned towards the principal scene
of disaster, and addressed myself to one of the survivors, whom I found to
be the supercargo. The vessel was _La Bonne Esperance_ of Brest, of 550
tons, homeward bound, with a mixed cargo of rum, cotton, and colonial
produce, from the West Indies. It appeared that the captain, mate, and
passengers had left the ship just as she struck, and taken to the long
boat, the fatal result of which has been seen. As I surmised, the bodies I
had seen consisted of one family, the only passengers on board, a colonel
in the army, with his son and daughter, returning to his country after
long service in foreign parts. The supercargo, in the confusion which took
place, could not get into the long boat in time, and remained with the
rest of the crew on board; several of the seamen were washed off the decks
and dashed against the rocks, and my narrator and three others were all
that survived "to tell the tale."
The ship's hull lay jammed between two small rocks near the foot of the
cliffs; she was still almost outwardly entire, as the tide receded just
after she came ashore in the night; but there was a hole knocked in her
side from whence a portion of the cargo had been washed out. The two
principal masts had gone by the board, but a part of the mizen-mast was
still standing; and the rocks were covered, far and near, with tattered
portions of her sails and cordage pasted against their sides, disposed by
the sea, in a grotesque manner.
As the principal station of the preventive corps was at a considerable
distance, some time would elapse before they could lend their aid in the
protection of the property; and the mob from the neighbouring country,
disappointed at finding little else but broken crockery at the other wreck,
seemed disposed to make the most of their time, and were proceeding with
all the violence and rapacity of professed wreckers. In spite of the
exertions of the officer from Torwich and his assistants, they were
mounting the sides, and had spread themselves over the vessel like a pack
of hungry wolves on the dead carcass of a horse, when I arrived. A scene
of greater confusion and singularity cannot be described.
It was not long before their attention was awakened by the tapping of a
cask of rum, which with many more had been washed out of the hold. This
beverage presented a powerful attraction; the ship was soon, in some
measure, deserted, and the mob concentrated like a swarm of wasps round
the casks. All distinctions were now at an end; the better sort of farmer
or shopkeeper, scrambled with the pauper for a cup or cap (or shoe) full
of the mellow liquid; while the supercargo and his men, aided by myself
and a few others, were occupied in hastily putting into some carts the
more valuable articles rescued from plunder. As the parties had been
immoderate in their potations, so the effects were equally speedy. Women
lay on the sand, dead drunk, beside the booty they had collected, while
unable to stir, it was snatched from their powerless grasp by others
stronger or more sober than themselves. Several pitched battles were also
taking place, both amongst boys and men, which generally terminated by
each of the combatants falling prostrate martyrs to Bacchus. The infection
was universal, and even the three "mounseers," the surviving crew of the
Bonne Esperance, could not resist an occasional sly pull at the liquor.
These men, though they had only just escaped sudden death, seemed not to
be cast down; but with their characteristic agility, one minute assisted
to roll the casks into carts, and then ran off perhaps to whisper a
compliment to some pretty girl, shrugging up their shoulders at the
unceremonious repulse they met with from _mademoiselle_.
But this scene was not to last long: for the tide had been imperceptibly
making way and closing. I had always observed that after coming to a
certain place, its velocity was greatly accelerated, and it was with
feelings of alarm that I saw the danger which the almost unconscious
people incurred. From regard to our own safety we had to retreat rapidly
towards the shingles, carrying as many of the helpless as time would admit
out of danger, in which we were aided by many of the sailors from Torwich,
who had assisted in rescuing a portion of the cargo. The peasantry, at
last aware of the hazard they ran, took to their heels also; but from the
state they were in, many were forgotten or left behind. The roar of waters
came rapidly onward, and amid the foaming eddy created by its advance, the
stifled death-cry, mingled with the harsh and piercing shrieks of some of
the half drowning victims--one moment awakened to the consciousness of
their situation, and the next hurried to eternity--burst on the ear; and
such was the advance of the spring-flood, that a few minutes after the
rush of people had reached the shingles, the curling breakers rolled the
bodies of several of the sufferers almost to their feet. The most lively
interest was now excited towards a small rock, which jutted out of the
sand a little distance from the wreck. The two poor children of a
fisherman's widow in the village, were playing in a cavity of this rock,
when the tide surrounded them. Their voices were drowned by the roaring of
the waters, and their fate would have been unknown, had not the wild
appearance and frantic screams of the mother--come in search of her
children--attracted notice. When they were discovered, only a ledge of the
rock was discernible; and the little sufferers were seen imploring for
help amidst the spray with which the waves, fanned by a stiff breeze from
windward, covered them. Several brave fellows swam off towards the rock,
but before they could reach it, a sudden rush of tide swept over, and
engulfed the children amidst the fragments of wreck hurled forward in its
advance. One of the sailors seized the youngest of the children and bore
him safely to shore. The body of the other was found when the tide ebbed,
under a ledge of rocks on the eastern side. Upwards of fifteen persons
were amongst the missing. It was an impressive scene, and read a powerful
lesson to all.
"Wrecking" has long been deservedly a national reproach. It is, however,
rarely accompanied with the cruelty and violence by which it was formerly
characterized; and such aggravated scenes now seldom occur. The people of
our coasts have become, generally, much more civilized, and probably the
"march of improvement" will ultimately eradicate so inhuman a custom. In
Cornwall it was carried to such an excess that the example was even given
from the pulpit; and there is a story related of a Cornish parson, who
upon information being brought to his congregation of a wreck whilst they
were at church, exhorted them to pause as they were rushing out _en masse_
in the midst of the service; and having gained the door, took to his heels
saying, "Now, my lads, it is but fair we should all start alike!" and
reached the wreck first. The people view the plunder of a wreck as a right,
and it is in vain to attempt to persuade them otherwise. However it is but
justice to say that they have frequently risked, and even sacrificed,
their own lives in endeavouring to preserve those of others; though some
recent instances, especially in Wales, prove that the old disposition
still lurks amongst the people, and sometimes breaks out with unabated
violence.
The arrival of a party of the Preventive Service that evening, in some
measure proved a check to the plunder of the peasantry; but the guards
themselves were not proof against the prevailing infection, and similar
scenes to that related, prevailed as long as there was any thing left to
drink or pick up; however, a considerable part of the cargo was safely
stowed, though there were few of the rum casks that did not afterwards
turn out impregnated with bilge water.
On a fine grey morning, about a week after these events occurred, I
wandered out towards the shore: there had been rough weather in the
channel, and many wrecks, and the turbulence of the ocean had not yet
subsided. It was about half-flood when I reached the _Bonne Esperance_.
She had disappeared by piece-meal under the repeated assaults of the sea,
but the principal part of the hull was still hanging together. Each wave
as it struck her tattered timbers, seemed to sap away her strength and
threatened to shake her to fragments. I sat with the supercargo for about
an hour, watching the flow of the tide. Her timbers cracked louder and
louder at each shock of the breakers; when a heavy sea struck her, her
joints loosened, and she broke up at last, scattered into fragments, and
whelmed in a gulf of boiling waters which foamed like an immense cauldron
over the place she had occupied a minute before. We had watched the
progress to this final disaster with the deepest interest--I may almost
say sympathy--for we could hardly help looking upon the ship as a friend
in need, hovering as it were over destruction without an arm being
stretched forth to save her, and it was not without a real feeling of pain
and sorrow that we witnessed her destruction.
About half-ebb we descended to the shore--it was covered as far as the eye
could reach with her ruin and materials; and one could almost imagine it
had been the destruction of a fleet. Thus ended the fate of _La Bonne
Esperance_ of Brest, and the occasional appearance of a solitary fragment
on the beach, was soon all that recalled her history to the remembrance of
the passers-by.