CHAPTER XXII.

EARLY STEAMSHIP WRECKS AND THEIR LESSONS.

The _Rothsay Castle_—An Old Vessel, unfit for Sea Service—A Gay

Starting—Drifting to the Fatal Sands—The Steamer Strikes—A Scene

of Panic—Lost Within easy reach of Assistance—An Imprudent

Pilot—Statements of Survivors—A Father and Son parted and

re-united—Heartrending Episodes—The Other Side: Saved by an

Umbrella—Loss of the _Killarney_—Severe Weather—The Engine-fires

Swamped—At the Mercy of the Waves—On the Rocks—The Crisis—Half the

Passengers and Crew on an Isolated Rock—Spolasco and his

Child—Holding on for Dear Life—Hundreds Ashore “Wrecking”—No

Attempts to Save the Survivors—Several Washed Off—Deaths from

Exhaustion—“To the Rescue!”—Noble Efforts—Failure of Several

Plans—A Novel Expedient adopted—Its Perils—Another Dreary

Night—Good Samaritans—A Noble Lady—Saved at Last—The Inventor’s

Description of the Rope Bridge—The Wreck Register for One

Year—Grand Work of the Lifeboat Institution.

The _Rothsay Castle_ was a steamship built in 1812, and was little enough

adapted for marine navigation. She was one of the first vessels of the

kind on the Clyde, and was perhaps constructed for the ordinary wear and

tear to which a river vessel is exposed, but certainly, at her age, should

never have been allowed to leave Liverpool for Beaumaris in weather so bad

that an American vessel which had been towed out that day had been

compelled to return to port. She had been, it was said, at one time,

condemned to be broken up, but other counsels had prevailed, and she had

been patched up and repaired for continued service.

At ten o’clock on Wednesday morning, the 17th August, 1831, the vessel was

appointed to sail from the usual place, George’s Pier-head, Liverpool; but

there was a casual delay at starting, and she did not leave till an hour

later. She was freighted heavily, and it was computed that hardly less

than 150 persons (if the children carried free were counted) were on

board. A majority were holiday seekers; the vessel was tricked out with

colours, and as the vessel left a band struck up its gayest music. Among

the pleasure parties on board was one from Bury, in Lancashire, consisting

of twenty-six persons. They set out in the morning, joyous with health and

pleasant anticipations, and before the next sun arose all of them, except

two, had been swallowed up in the remorseless deep!(96)

The vessel proceeded very slowly on its course, making so little way that

at three o’clock in the afternoon she had not reached a floating light

stationed about fifteen miles from Liverpool. Arrived off the light, the

sea was so rough that many of the passengers were greatly alarmed, and

one, who had his wife, five children, and servant on board, went down to

the captain and begged him to put back. The captain answered, with an

oath, that he thought there was “a deal of fear on board, and very little

danger.” The whole family was among the lost. The vessel drifted out of

her course, and proceeded so slowly that the alarm on board became

general.

[Illustration: WRECK OF THE “ROTHSAY CASTLE.”]

One of the survivors stated that the leakage was so great that the fireman

found it impossible to keep the fires up, two being actually extinguished,

while the coals were so wet that it was with difficulty the others were

kept in. Yet there were no attempts made to sound the well or ascertain

what water was in the vessel. It was near twelve o’clock when they arrived

at the mouth of the Menai Strait, about five miles from Beaumaris, and

here her steam suddenly got so low that she drifted with the tide and wind

towards the Dutchman’s Bank, on the spit of which she struck. Now came a

time of awe and consternation. The crowded boat rolled in a frightful

manner, and the worst fears of the passengers seemed to be on the point of

realisation. The seas broke over her on either side. The engine had

previously stopped for about ten minutes, the coals being covered in

water, and the pumps were choked. On her striking, the captain said, “It

is only sand, and she will soon float.” Only sand! More vessels have been

lost on sands than ever were on rocks. In the meantime he and some of the

passengers got the jib up. No doubt he did this intending to wear her

round, and bring her head to the southward, but it did not, it proved,

make the least difference which way her head was turned, as she was on a

lee shore, and there was no steam to work her off. The captain also

ordered the passengers first to run aft, in the hope, by removing the

pressure from the vessel’s bow, to make her float.(97) This failing to

produce the desired effect, he then ordered them to run forward. But all

these exertions were unavailing; the ill-fated vessel stuck still faster

in the sands, and all gave themselves up for lost. The terror of the

passengers became excessive. Several of them urged the captain to make

some signal of distress, which he is said to have refused to do, telling

the passengers that there was no danger, and that the packet was afloat,

and _on her way_, knowing well that she was irretrievably stuck in the

treacherous sands, and that she was rapidly filling from her leaks. The

unfortunate man was fully aware of the imminent danger they were in, and

we may charitably suppose that he made such statements to prevent a panic.

The great bell was now rung, with so much violence that the tongue broke,

and some of the passengers continued to strike it for some time with a

stone. The bell was heard at Beaumaris, for the night was clear, with

strong wind; but it was not known from whence the sound came, and no

trouble appears to have been taken. The tide began to set in with great

strength, and a heavy sea beat over the bank on which the steam-packet was

firmly and immovably fixed. It was the duty of the captain now to make

every possible exertion, by signals, to procure assistance from shore. It

is said that if a light had been shown on board the unlucky steamer, the

boats from upwards of twenty vessels lying at Bangor would undoubtedly

have saved the larger part of the unfortunate passengers. The masts should

have been cut away, not merely to ease the vessel, but to afford some

chance to the poor people. At Penmaen Point an establishment of pilots had

been fixed by Lord Bulkeley, for the express purpose of rendering

assistance in such cases. “The world,” says Lieut. Morrison, “will hardly

credit the astonishing fact that their establishment is within little more

than a mile and a half from the scene of wretchedness, and that, the wind

being fair, the boats from thence could have reached the spot in about ten

minutes. A single blue light burned, a single rocket fired, or even a

solitary musket discharged, would have ensured this happy result.” The

evidence showed that there was nothing of the kind. Probably no sea-going

steamer, carrying 150 passengers, was ever left so utterly unprovided with

proper appliances.

The scene that now presented itself baffles description. A horrible death

seemed to be the doom of all on board, and the females in particular

uttered the most piercing shrieks. Some locked themselves in each other’s

arms, while others, losing all self-command, tore off their bonnets, caps,

and other portions of clothing, in wild despair. The women and children

gathered in a knot together, and kept embracing each other, uttering all

the while the most dismal lamentations. “When tired with crying,” says

Morrison, “they lay against each other, with their heads reclined, like

inanimate bodies. It was a few minutes before that a Liverpool Branch

pilot on board, William Jones, became aware in all its extent of their

dreadful situation. He is reported to have exclaimed, ‘We are all lost!’

which threw down whatever hopes any on board had till now entertained, and

induced them to give themselves up to bitter despair. This was sadly

imprudent, and little like the conduct I should have expected from such a

man. He ought to have set an example of preparing something in the nature

of a raft, to save what lives could be saved; and as he must have known

that it was low water, and the whole of the Dutchman’s Bank was dry within

a few yards of them, and the tide just setting on to it, there can be no

reason to doubt that he might have been by this means instrumental in

saving many of the unhappy victims as well as himself.”

[Illustration: THE MENAI STRAITS.]

One of the survivors stated that after the vessel had struck several times

his wife and some friends came to him, and asked if he thought they must

be lost. “I thought,” said he, “we should, and they proposed going to

prayer for the short time we had to live. We all went to prayer, myself

and wife in particular, and when we got from our knees I saw four men

getting upon the mast, and beginning to fasten themselves to it. I told my

wife I would look out for a better situation for us. I took her towards

the windlass, and began to fasten a rope to the frame where the bell hung;

and when I had got the rope made fast, and looked back for my wife, she

had again joined our friends near to the place at which we kneeled down. A

great wave almost took me overboard, but I held by the rope; then came a

second and a third wave before I could see my wife again; and when I

looked—they were all gone.(98)

“I then prepared to die myself in the place I was at, and remained in that

situation till daylight, at which time about fifty people remained on

board. As the waves came the people kept decreasing, until all were gone

except myself. I remained on the wreck until I saw a boat coming, which

took me on board, and also rescued those on the mast, and afterwards

others. We were then taken to Beaumaris, and treated with the greatest

hospitality and kindness.”

Another survivor, after detailing the facts preliminary to the disaster,

said: “The waves broke heavily on the vessel; the chimney became loose,

and first reeled to leeward, then to windward, and tumbled over with a

great crash. The mainmast then went overboard, and remained hanging to the

vessel by the rigging. The captain still assured us we should be saved,

and that assistance would shortly arrive. I requested him to fire a gun;

he said he had none on board. A small bell was then rung, but its noise

would probably be lost in the roar of the wind and waves. Some of the

passengers asked the captain to hoist a light; he said he had none; but we

knew he had a lantern, for one of the crew took it round when he collected

the checks, about half an hour before the vessel struck. The confusion

occasioned by the falling of the chimney and the mast, together with the

cries and shrieks of the women and children, defies description. Men were

seen taking leave of their wives; wives were clinging to their husbands;

and persons were running about in all directions, uttering the most

piteous and heartrending cries. From the weight of the chimney, the vessel

continued lying to windward, and very soon after the mast went the weather

boards gave way; and as the waves then swept the deck the passengers

stationed themselves on those parts of the vessel which lay highest.

Several climbed up the mast which was left standing; others got on the

poop. The weather boards on the leeward side were then washed away, taking

with them more than thirty people, who were clinging to them. The cries

were now more dreadful than before, every succeeding wave sweeping numbers

from the wreck. I took a situation beside one of the paddle-boxes, and

whilst there a young man came to me with a large drum, and said it would

save both of us, if I held on one side and he on the other. Some females

came and clung round us, but the young man stuck to the drum, and told

them to get hold of the first piece of timber they could.... Of what

further happened I have but a confused recollection, and it appears to me

like the traces of a horrible dream. It seemed as if I had been in the

water many days, when I heard the welcome sound of a human voice shout

‘Holloa!’ to which I also shouted ‘Holloa!’ Soon after I was lifted out of

the water, and placed in a boat belonging to R. Williamson, Esq., who,

when he was informed of the calamity which had befallen us, manned two

boats, and came out to pick up the sufferers. On being taken up I asked my

deliverers when it would be daylight, and they told me it was broad day—it

was about ten o’clock in the forenoon. I was stone blind. Mr. Williamson

and the boat’s crew were most kind to me. I was kept on board until I was

sufficiently restored to meet my sister and the other survivors at

Beaumaris. I cannot omit to express my most grateful thanks to my

deliverers and benefactors. Their noble humanity has left an impression on

my heart which will never be effaced but with my existence.”

“Amidst these almost overwhelming distresses,” says the Rev. Mr. Stewart,

in one of his letters to a friend, “involving in one general calamity men,

women, children, and even tender infants, it is a rest to the heart to

turn for a moment to some special marks of divine mercy. I am sure, my

very dear friend, the following incident, related to me by the father of

the boy, will deeply affect you. He was near the helm with his child,

grasping his hand, till the waves, rolling over the quarter-deck, and

taking with them several persons who were standing near them, it was no

longer safe to remain there. The father took his child in his hands and

ran towards the shrouds, but the boy could not mount with him. He cried

out, therefore, ‘Father! father! do not leave me!’ But finding that his

son could not climb with him, and that his own life was in danger, he

withdrew his hand. When the morning came, the father was conveyed on shore

with some other passengers who were preserved, and as he was landing he

said within himself, ‘How can I see my wife without having our boy with

me?’ When, however, the child’s earthly parent let go his hand his

Heavenly Father did not leave him. He was washed off the deck, but happily

clung to a part of the wreck on which some others of the passengers were

floating. With them he was almost miraculously preserved. When he was

landing, not knowing of his father’s safety, he said, ‘It is of no use to

take me on shore now I have lost my father.’ He was, however, carried,

much exhausted, to the same house where his father had been sent, and

actually placed in the same bed, unknown to either, till they were clasped

in each other’s arms.”

Among the victims was that of a lady entirely _unknown_. The body of this

poor creature had been picked up near Conway, and it was evident that she

had been one of fortune’s favourites, though destined to a death so cruel.

She was elegantly and fashionably attired, wearing rich earrings, gold

chain and locket, three valuable rings in addition to her wedding-ring,

and so forth. In a day or two she was buried in a common deal shell, and

followed to a nameless grave by strangers.

It appears, by the pilot’s statement, that early in the afternoon he had

been invited by the steward to take some refreshment with him, and in the

course of conversation a very strong opinion was given by the steward that

Captain Atkinson never _intended_ to reach Beaumaris, and that the voyage

he was now making would be his last. By the expression “intended” he

explained was meant _expected_, and the result proved the opinion to be

too fatally correct. Tired by what he had gone through before entering the

packet, the pilot lay down in the forecastle to sleep. He was aroused by a

sensation beyond all others most dreadful—he felt the vessel strike, and

his experience told him all was over. Hastily rushing upon deck, his

courage and coolness were for a moment quite overcome. “I saw,” said he,

“the quality huddled together in the waist of the vessel; and the praying

and crying was the most dreadful sight to witness. The waves broke over on

both sides, and took away numbers at once. They went like flights,

sometimes many, sometimes few; at last the bulwark went, and none were

left.”

The vessel had scarcely struck when the two stays of the chimney broke.

These, after many ineffectual efforts, were again made fast; but they soon

gave way a second time, and the chimney fell across the deck, bringing the

mainmast with it. The mast, it is stated, fell aft along the lee or

larboard side of the quarter deck, and struck overboard some of the

unfortunate creatures who had there collected. The steward of the vessel

and his wife lashed themselves to the mast, determined to spend their last

moments in each other’s arms. Several husbands and wives seem to have met

their fate together, whilst parents clung to their little ones. Several

mothers, it is said, perished with their little ones clasped in their

arms. The carpenter and his wife were seen embracing each other and their

child in the extreme of agony. The poor woman asked a young man, Henry

Hammond, to pull her cloak over her shoulders, when a tremendous wave came

and washed off, in a moment, twelve persons, and her among them.

Soon after the crash the captain’s voice was heard for the last time. He

and the mate appear to have been the very first that perished, and the

conclusion is that they must have been dragged overboard by the wreck of

the mainmast. It is true that an absurd report was spread in Beaumaris

that both captain and mate reached land safely in the boat, part of which

was found on shore early in the morning. This is unlikely; but it is quite

possible many lives might have been saved in the boat, _if she had been

provided with oars_. The absence of these, however, shows in a glaring

manner the utter recklessness of human life which marked the whole affair.

It was stated by Mr. Henry Hammond, ship-carver, of Liverpool, one of the

persons saved, that it was not true that a party of the passengers got

into the boat soon after the vessel struck, and were immediately swamped.

The statement he gave was that the boat was hanging by the davits over the

stern, nearly filled with water in consequence of the spray; when the

vessel struck, he and the wife and child of the carpenter got into the

boat, but left it again, being ordered out by the mate, who told them it

was of no use, as no boat could live in such a sea. The boat soon after

broke adrift and was lost, but there was no person in her.

“For above a mile and a half to the spit-buoy in the Friar’s Road,” says

Morrison, “the sand is dry at half ebb, and as the Dutchman’s Bank is dry

at low water, I have no hesitation in affirming that there was dry land

within half a mile of the wreck when she struck; and that if they had

_been informed_ of the fact, many of them on board might have swam or been

drifted over the Swash, and within two hundred yards of the vessel would

have found themselves in not more than three or four feet of water.”

The Swash is very few feet wide, and was easily passed by one individual,

who, being a resident in Bangor, knew the locality, and escaped, according

to Mr. Whittaker’s narrative, who states as follows:—“At this time a

gentleman from Bangor left the vessel, with a small barrel tied beneath

his chin, and an umbrella in his hand, which he unfurled when he got into

the water, in the hope of being drifted ashore in time to send some aid to

his fellow-sufferers.” This was Mr. Jones of Bangor. Now, if Mr. Jones,

the pilot, or the captain or mate, or any other person on board, who knew

of the vicinity of the dry sand, on which people walk at low water, had

explained to the persons who could swim the state of the case, many others

might have been saved as well as Mr. Jones.

A Mr. Tarry, who was exceedingly apprehensive during the passage, kept his

wife and children in the cabin; on the vessel striking he made immediate

inquiries respecting their probable fate; and Jones, the pilot, having

indiscreetly said that there was no hope of safety, he became at once

calm, and said in a tone of resignation, “I brought out my family, and to

return without them would be worse than death; I’ll, therefore, die with

them.” He then went down into the cabin and embraced his wife and

children. It would appear that they afterwards, impelled by a sense of

self-preservation, came on deck; one at least of his little girls was seen

afterwards in a state of pitiable helplessness. Mr. Duckworth, of Bury,

who survived the catastrophe, says that while sustaining his wife he saw

her on the quarter-deck. She was about ten years old. Each wave that broke

down on one side of the vessel hurled her along with impetuous force, and

dashed her against the gunwale on the other side; and then it would

recede, and draw her back again, a ready victim for another similar shock.

The poor innocent, bruised and half choked with the waves, sent forth the

most piteous cries for her father and mother between each rush of the

waters. Her shrieks were piercing beyond description, and she screamed

“Oh! won’t you come to me, father? Oh, mamma!” &c., till the narrator says

his heart yearned to save her; and though he dared not quit his wife, he

called to a fellow-passenger to make the effort; but he believes she was

washed away soon afterwards.

[Illustration: SAVED AT LAST.]

“A schooner, belonging to a nephew of Alderman Wright, was lying off

Beaumaris Green; the persons on board heard the bell ring in the _Rothsay

Castle_, but in consequence of no light being displayed, which the captain

refused to allow, they could not tell in what direction to go to render

assistance. They eventually saved several persons who had been seven hours

in the water. Such was the state of anxiety of the poor creatures, who had

been so long hanging to the wreck, that they imagined, when taken up at

seven o’clock in the morning, that it was noon.”

[Illustration: BEAUMARIS.]

Lieutenant Morrison speaks highly of the humanity and honesty of the

Welshmen of the coast on which the unfortunate vessel was wrecked, and

contrasts their conduct with that of the people of certain other places.

He remembered, in the year 1816, witnessing the wreck of a vessel near

Appledore, in the Bay of Barnstaple, when the country people came down in

crowds to plunder the wreck, and they drove the poor seamen back into the

surf when they attempted to rescue a part of their property. In the winter

of 1827 he recalled the case of a crowd surrounding the mate of a Welsh

sloop wrecked on the coast of Waterford, whom they knocked down and robbed

of a small bundle of clothes, all that he had saved from the wreck.

The wreck about to be described occurred in January, 1838, and has been

recorded in a graphic though somewhat verbose pamphlet,(99) which it is

very unlikely has reached the eyes of many of our readers. It has often

struck the writer that the most fascinating and interesting descriptions

of wrecks have not been written by sailors, and there is a sufficient

reason for this. Many of the episodes which strike a landsman forcibly,

and add greatly to the picturesque _ensemble_ of his narration, are taken

by the seaman as mere matters of course. Several of the more detailed and

interesting narratives already given have been taken from accounts

recorded by the members of other professions, clergymen and military men

more particularly. The present account is compiled from the narrative

furnished by a medical man.

The _Killarney_ sailed from Cork on the 19th January of the above year,

with about fifty on board, passengers and crew. The weather was very

severe, the wind blowing hard from the east, accompanied by snow and hail

squalls; and the captain, after vainly endeavouring to make headway,

turned the vessel round and returned to Cove Harbour. The weather

moderating, the _Killarney_ again got under weigh for her port of

destination, Bristol. Again a storm rose, and the mist became so dense

that they could scarcely see the vessel’s length ahead of them. During the

night 150 pigs—about a fourth of the number on the vessel—were washed

overboard; the cabin was a wreck of furniture and crockery; and Dr.

Spolasco’s gig had been forced from its lashings, broken up, and partly

washed away. The engine stopped for some time, and the vessel lay to, the

captain not knowing his position. A suspicious circumstance, showing that

the men were disheartened and greatly fatigued, was that they came down to

the cabin and asked for bottles of porter, &c.—a most unusual request, of

course. Lieut. Nicolay, a military passenger, remarked, “I don’t like to

see these men getting porter in this way; I was once at sea in great

danger, and the sailors through desperation commenced to drink.” If the

sailors were doubtful of the vessel’s safety, there can be little wonder

that the passengers generally were in a state of grave alarm. Baron

Spolasco had his boy, a helpless child of nine years of age, on board, and

between his care, giving advice to passengers, and setting the leg of the

under-steward, who had broken it in a violent fall caused by the lurching

of the ship, he had enough to do. At noon of Saturday it was whispered

that the captain intended to try for land, but no one on board appeared to

know whether they were twenty or fifty miles from it. The weather

increased in severity.

In these trying moments, the captain, mate, and crew, endeavoured to

perform their duties, and used every exertion in their power to weather

the dreadful storm; but the water gained incessantly on the pumps, and the

vessel continued to fill, and, being almost on her broadside, the deck was

nearly perpendicular. The sea broke over her continually, and the

passengers crawled about on hands and knees. Spolasco inquired of

M‘Arthur, the chief engineer, entreating him to let him know how the water

stood in the engine-room. He seemed much exhausted, and said, “We’re

getting the water down to the plates of the engines; the fires are

re-kindled, and we’ll soon have steam on.” For a time this was

successfully done.

Lieut. Nicolay was the first to announce “Land at last!” to the

passengers, and all hearts beat with joy at the welcome news. But they

were greatly puzzled, and indeed mortified, that they were unable to

ascertain what land it was. Some said that it was Poor Head, others that

it was Kinsale, and others that it was Youghal, and others again that it

was Cork Harbour. But the vessel was now utterly unmanageable.

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO CORK HARBOUR.]

The captain again did his best to re-make Cork Harbour, but it was out of

his power, the sails having been blown to ribbons, and the fires put out

owing to the repeated shipping of the seas. The engines went on pretty

well when they commenced working a second time, but they shortly became

less and less powerful from the cause just assigned. About three o’clock

in the afternoon she had drifted near some rocks, the vessel being then

nearly on her beam ends. It was all that the passengers or crew could do

to hold on the bulwarks or ropes, and from the terror depicted on every

countenance it was evident that the crisis was at hand. The vessel struck,

and a simultaneous thrill of horror passed through every breast. Two

gentlemen were, it was believed, washed overboard at this time.

A heavy sea then struck abaft the paddle-box, carrying off all before it.

The doctor descried poor Nicolay on the top of a wave, like a mountain

over them, as it were riding on, and buffeting in vain with his gigantic

enemy. An awful and terrific scene was witnessed while grasping his child

and the companion. “I believe,” says he, “it was the same sea, or one

instantaneously succeeding it, that struck the companion, and carried me

and my dear little charge across the deck. Had it not been for the remnant

of the bulwarks, viz., two uprights, across which a deck-form was forced,

which proved the simple means of saving our lives at that period—were it

not for this circumstance, my child and myself must have perished with

Nicolay and others. Several fragments of deck-rigging fell upon us—such as

ropes, spars, splinters, &c.; and it was with the utmost difficulty that I

was enabled to extricate myself and child from them, in doing which I lost

a shoe. It is worthy of remark that I had not worn shoes for more than six

months before, having put them on that morning, considering that they

would contribute to my ease while on board. My little boy also lost a shoe

and cap owing to this circumstance. I now ought to remark, before I

proceed further with this painful narrative, that immediately, or rather

before, the engines stopped the second time from the vessel filling with

water, the engineers and firemen came upon deck, from the impossibility of

their remaining any longer below, the steam gradually going down, and the

engines consequently decreasing in power till they came to a stand. All

further efforts on their part being unavailing, and destruction being

inevitable, all rushed upon deck, leaving the engines in order to save

their lives.”

Matters for some time continuing thus, the sailors and some of the deck

passengers exerted themselves, and were engaged in endeavouring with

buckets to lighten the vessel of some of the water in the hold; and, after

several hours’ hard work, they so far succeeded (the pumps all the while

kept going) as to be able early on Saturday afternoon to get up steam

again.

A passenger pointed out a bay, which he said was Roberts’ Cove, and

recommended the captain to run the vessel in there, as there was a boat

harbour in it, and beach her. The captain said that he did not think there

was a harbour there—that, at all events, it would be impossible to make

it. The vessel was all this time drifting nearer the rock on which she

ultimately struck; and in about an hour after the passenger had given the

recommendation alluded to, the captain got the vessel round, and

endeavoured to make Roberts’ Cove. Just as he had got her before the wind,

however, she was pooped by a tremendous sea, which carried away the

taffrail, staunchions, the wheel (and two men who worked it), the

companion, the binnacle, and the breakwater. The two steersmen fortunately

caught part of the rigging, and were saved; but the sea which did the

damage carried away the bulwarks, with some of the steerage passengers,

who were standing near the funnel, and cleared the deck of all the pigs

that were on it.

In consequence of all the hands having endeavoured to save themselves, the

vessel was left to herself, and continued to strike piecemeal on several

minor rocks, as she was driven before the fury of the waves over them with

a clap—a crash resembling thunder—carrying off at each stroke one or more

human beings, together with some portion of deck, deck furniture, deck

trimmings, rigging, &c. To hear the wrenching of the vessel, now between

the roaring billows and the rock, together with the cries of the

sufferers, was soul-piercing in the extreme.

It was absurd to think, even for a moment, of lowering the quarter-boats,

the tempest raged so furiously. Previously to the vessel striking on the

rock which rent her asunder, and upon which she went to pieces, passengers

and seamen all ran up for self-preservation on the quarter-deck. A

terrible rush was then made for this, their last resource; and catching

his child, Doctor Spolasco held him in his arms, and he clung close round

his neck with all the strength of his little embrace, looking imploringly

in his face for protection, and, as if foreseeing his fate, said, “Papa,

kiss me! Papa, kiss me! We are all lost!”

The last moment approached. The crisis was at hand. Struggling on with his

beloved charge, the doctor sprang forward with him, clasping him closely

to his breast, and, creeping on his hand and knees, dragged his child

along under one arm, while he held by the fragments of the bulwarks,

shifting his hand from splinter to splinter, until he slowly and gradually

reached the stern, the heavens lowering, the tempest raging, and the

billows washing over them, drenched to the skin, and every instant gasping

for breath, the waves suffocating them, the billows every instant beating

against them.

Some time previously to this both passengers and crew knew not how to act

or what to attempt to secure their safety, such was the distraction of

their minds. The direction of the vessel was no longer thought of or

attended to; each individual holding on by anything that he could possibly

grasp for temporary safety with one hand, while he was seen pulling off

his clothes with the other, in readiness to be freed from the encumbrance

of them, that he might be enabled to make a last, a desperate effort to

swim ashore.

This was indeed a struggle for life and death, but bordering so nearly on

the latter; some dressing again, and again undressing; again hesitating,

frantic and desperate, till not another moment was left for deliberation.

Crash! crash! crash! came in awful quick succession, mingled with the

piteous, the soul-harrowing cries, “For pity’s sake, help! help! help!”

More than half an hour previously to the vessel’s striking on that

Saturday, between three and four in the afternoon, although instantly

expecting to go down, ten or twelve persons were seen on the neighbouring

mountainous promontory, and it afforded them some glimmering of

satisfaction—some faint ray of hope that they would not perish in sight of

land. They were observed as early as three o’clock on Saturday, but no

efforts were made to rescue them till long after. A part of them gained

the rock on which the vessel struck previously to the night’s setting in,

where they remained all Sunday and part of Monday, wet, cold, and nearly

starved.

“I desired my child,” says Spolasco, “as he loved me, to cling close,

while I went to render assistance to others, who were loudly imploring for

aid. The darling child, who was evidently sick and exhausted, obeyed; and

I, alas! trusted to his puny strength to hold on.

“I sat for a moment on the rock, kissing him, till I looked round and

reflected on the awful scene before me, and beheld (with what emotion I

leave you to guess) the dreadful destruction which was going on.

“Previously to my jumping on the rock I observed Mrs. Lawe on the

quarter-deck on her knees, frantic, without her cap, her hair dishevelled

all around her shoulders, in dreadful anguish, striking the deck with one

hand, while she held on with the other. Mr. Lawe, her husband, was at this

time drowned.

“About this period the midships of the vessel were thrown by the terrific

sea and raging storm into a position favourable for those yet on board to

make their escape upon the rock; thus it was with comparative ease the

surviving remnant on board now forsook the vessel.

“In short, if the sufferers could have anticipated and waited for this

opportunity, the lives of many who were lost might have been saved. They

would, at least, have been fortunate enough to have reached the rock, and

would have had the same chance of existence as others, provided their

constitution were sufficiently strong to bear the dreadful privations that

there awaited them.

“I stretched forth my hand and assisted several as they approached, taking

hold of the first that presented, making, of course, no distinction of

persons, and continued to act thus till I saw a female in the last gasp,

still holding by the rock after the receding of a wave—it was Mrs. Lawe.

Then, with all the force I could command, I dragged her forwards one or

two paces. She was, indeed, poor good lady! in the last stage of

exhaustion, and fell on my arm, and her weight caused me to slip, by which

we were both precipitated towards a frightful chasm; but luckily I again

seized the rock ere the wave retired, or we might both have been swept

away, and I held fast by one hand, while with the other I supported the

lady, during which two or three waves washed over us. Neither she nor I

could breathe.

“I collected all my remaining strength for this the last effort I was

equal to in order to save her, and folding her in my arms, I crept up the

rock quite above the surge, where the spray only could reach us.

“She was speechless, but sufficiently sensible to acknowledge my attention

with looks of fervent gratitude. I then left her, anxious to return to my

child. But judge of my sensations—I found him not! He, alas! was gone! I

could not tell where, or what had become of him.” The poor boy had been

drowned, and no traces of him were ever discovered.

Their sufferings on the rock are well described:—“To such dreadful shifts

were we driven that during the night I was obliged to hold on with one

hand, while with the other I grasped the hand of a fellow-sufferer, in

order that each might receive some portion of vital heat; this we did

alternately with right and left hand. But we were all so depressed in

spirits and suffering so grievously from the cold and the rain as the

night advanced, that we did little else than turn our thoughts to the Most

High, and calmly await the approach of day, and with it some hope of

relief. My face, nose, and particularly the inside of my mouth, were

dreadfully mangled, and my teeth loosened, being so repeatedly forced by

the billows against the rock to which I was clinging. In short, I think no

human endurance equalled ours; for towards morning, when my fingers became

so benumbed from wet and cold that I lost the use of them, and I found

that it was impossible to hold on longer, I twice felt resigned to commit

myself to the deep, and was on the point of doing so, invoking Heaven to

receive my spirit.

“The very lacerated state of my nose, mouth, and feet,” says the doctor,

“when I was borne from the rock, were indicative of the sufferings I had

endured. Poor M‘Arthur seemed either quite regardless of, or insensible

to, my repeated warnings of his danger. He at last put his hands into the

pockets of his trousers, in spite of my remonstrances to the contrary. The

point of the rock on which he stood affording him a better foothold, or

standing, than mine, and that portion of the rock immediately before him

not being so perpendicular as that before me, allowed him to bend forward.

This last advantage, coupled with that of his better footing and his being

overpowered with sleep, induced him to be so careless of his safety. But

almost instantly a fearful and tremendous sea struck the rock just below

the slight shelves or openings which supported our toes, and immediately

rebounded over us many feet in height; then breaking and falling with

great force on our heads, it had the effect of hurling off on the instant

poor M‘Arthur. O gracious God, I never can be sufficiently grateful for

Thy bountiful goodness and singular preservation in protecting me through

so many imminent perils, so many hair-breadth escapes! For of all the

passengers with whom I dined on Friday in the steamer _Killarney_ I am the

only survivor! The cook who prepared the dinner, and the steward,

steward’s brother, and the stewardess that served it, are all in

eternity!”

It was not till about ten o’clock on the morning of Sunday that the poor

sufferers on the rock endeavoured to change their positions, which was a

matter of some difficulty. One of the passengers, during the early part of

the night, having been unable to attain a position as comfortable as that

of some of the rest, had hung on to Dr. Spolasco’s legs, in order to save

himself from dropping into the sea. Later a heavy wave struck him; he

relinquished his hold, and was swept into the sea never to rise again. “On

gaining the summit,” says the doctor, “I perceived with horror that many

had disappeared during the night, and among them the lady whom I had

rescued at the loss, I may indeed fairly say, of my dear boy.” There was a

general hope among the survivors that they would be rescued early that

morning (Sunday), and their disappointment that no effort was made to save

them was great indeed. They saw at an early hour hundreds of peasants on

the beach and cliff, some of them busily engaged at the wreckage or in

bearing away parts of the pigs which had formed part of the cargo, but all

intent upon gain. Not the slightest effort was made for the poor wretches

on the rock, although Spolasco at intervals waved his purse in one hand

and his cap in another in order to induce the peasantry to afford

assistance.

The doctor endeavoured by signs to indicate that a raft could be easily

constructed from the wreckage, and that the drift of the current would

bring it to the rock, but he was not understood. Again their hopes fell to

zero. Poor M‘Arthur, the engineer, who had been nearly drowned before, had

managed to struggle to a higher position on the rock, but he died from

exhaustion early on Monday morning. Some time after, two men, and a little

later two boys, fell headlong into the sea, being nearly dead from

starvation and exposure. Of twenty-five who got safely on the rock,

thirteen died before they could be rescued; and yet it was so near the

coast that those mounting the nearest cliff had to bend over its edge to

see it. Meantime the storm beat on violently, and no boat could have

approached the rock. Sea-weed and salt water was all the food (!) they

could get from dinner hour on board the steamer on Friday, about five

o’clock, till Monday afternoon. All this within almost a stone’s throw of

land!

“To return,” says the narrator, “to Sunday. I have in a previous page

stated that during the whole of the morning of that day, indeed up to the

afternoon, all we saw was a crowd of peasants on the beach, each carrying

his or her burden from the spoils of the wreck of the steamer _Killarney_;

and on the cliff above us, numbers—altogether amounting to some hundreds.

It was in vain we looked for some respectable person among them who would

be likely to tender us the desired assistance, till ... we hailed the

presence of a respectable gentleman, by whose kind gestures we could

understand (for it was impossible to hear his voice) that we yet should be

saved. After waving his hat, and doing all in his power to cheer us, he

retired, and ascended the lofty cliff, and in a reasonable time afterwards

again returned, with several other gentlemen.

“Several descended with him to the edge of the precipice—a dangerous

declivity—bringing with them ropes, slings, &c., and indeed every other

requisite that the short period of their absence allowed them to procure,

or whatever appeared to them necessary for the object they had in view.

Having arrived at the brink of the precipice, somewhat in a direct line

(though still above us) with the rock upon which we were—the distance I

would compute to be from a hundred and fifty to two hundred feet—they

commenced throwing stones to which were attached small lines, several in

their turn; one having failed, another tried, and so on, till they were

sufficiently convinced that all such efforts were altogether fruitless—the

strongest of them not being able to pitch such stone more than half way

towards us.

“Some one then suggested the propriety of trying slings, which they

immediately prepared—in turn taking off their cloaks, coats, &c., having

first tied round their waist a strong rope as a prudent precaution of

security for their safety in making the bold attempt, viz., of slinging a

stone, having attached to it a line, to us unfortunate expectants upon the

rock. These efforts, too, like the former, were attended with want of

success.

“Mr. John Galwey, with whom was Mr. Edward Hull and other gentlemen,

apparently in a most perilous position confronting us, formed a footing

with crowbars, &c. Mr. Galwey was then observed several times to try to

pass a duck with a small line fastened to its leg, but without effect. We

also discerned him coiling a wire or line into the barrel of a musquet,

with the view of firing off the ball to which it was connected, hoping

that when the ball should have passed the rock the line might fall upon

it. This expedient too was ingenious, but unsuccessful.

“The next attempt for our rescue was thought of and entered upon by a

brave young gentleman, Richard Knolles, Esq.—son of the worthy Captain

Knolles of that neighbourhood—by which he nearly lost his life. He had

with him a favourite dog, well trained to the water, and apparently to his

command, with which fine animal he descended as nearly to the edge of the

beach as the billows, breakers, and foaming spray would allow him, and

rather farther, for, being young, brave, and anxious to be the means of

saving us, he ventured somewhat too far for his safety, being met by a

tremendous surf, which struck him, and dashed him above some twenty feet

or more with such violence, that he was not only wetted to the skin, but

had the narrowest escape that man could well have of being lashed into the

furious sea and yawning gulf below him.”

The news of their cruel sufferings having ere this spread around the

country—this being Sunday, and rather more favourable than the previous

days—thousands of both sexes assembled from miles around to witness the

awful scene. They could clearly distinguish among the vast assemblage upon

the cliffs a great number of ladies by their veils, drapery, &c., who

doubtless had been attracted to the fatal spot through sympathy for their

peculiar hardships. The shore appeared so near, and the day was so fine,

that through the greater part of it they did not think, nor could bring

themselves to believe it possible, that they were cruelly doomed to suffer

another night upon the desolate rock; and it was thought by some (seeing

that the distance to the cliff on the mainland was not very great) that a

brave plunge into the waves would bear them on shore.

[Illustration: THE SURVIVORS ON THE ROCK.]

Hunger was keen indeed; it was piercing; and perceiving the people upon

the cliff apparently unable to give them relief, one resolute but

unfortunate man volunteered, and attempted to swim to shore, and, creeping

down the rock, bade them farewell. They wished him, with all their hearts,

success, each meaning to follow his example, if successful, rather than

remain to perish on the rock. He rushed boldly into the surf; they all

awaited his re-appearance with breathless anxiety, but he was rapidly

hurried into the deep below, and they could discern him no more. All such

attempts, or hope of such, to gain the shore by these means were then

abandoned.

The second night was now closing fast upon them, and having observed that

some preparations were being made on shore to extend ropes from promontory

to promontory—a distance of from half a mile to a mile—they were all

hovering between hope and fear. A deathless silence reigned among them.

Their gallant captain at length exclaimed, “I have it! They are carrying

one end of the line to yon jutting promontory (east), and are running with

the other end to the other promontory (west); the two ends of the line

being drawn tight in opposite directions, the centre will overhang the

rock, and be within our reach.” As the sequel proved, his judgment was

well founded.

“We now,” says the narrator, “placed our whole reliance on the success of

the efforts of those on shore with the ropes; but the apparatus employed

was imperfect—time passing rapidly, and the night quickly approaching.

Just at the commencement of dusk the rope reached us, which we were

enabled to seize by a small tripping line that hung pendent from it when

it was stretched over our heads, being drawn tight at each promontory by

the many assembled.” The captain, or some one of the men, caught the line

and drew it downwards, when all seized it, and there was a wild huzza! The

captain had been right in his conjecture. The line was extended from

headland to headland.

“When the rope was conveyed to us,” writes the doctor, “we all cheered, as

if re-animated by a new existence; and although it reached us too late to

be of any service on that night, such was our eagerness to be delivered

from the rock, that one man volunteered, and immediately descended to the

base of it, and by a triangular knot made himself fast to the hawser,

which had been conveyed to us by means of the small lines already alluded

to. The rope, or hawser, although not a new one, I think was sufficiently

strong to bear one at a time to shore, and, indeed, up the lofty cliff, in

safety; but a boy who had been in care of the pigs, unfortunately, through

over-anxiety to escape from the rock, descended, and most imprudently

attached himself also at the same time to it, notwithstanding our earnest

remonstrances to the contrary; and when they said ‘all was ready’—meaning

that they were secured to the rope—at the same time directing us to shout

to those on the mainland ‘to pull them ashore,’ we did so, and they

immediately drew them towards the cliff, upon which we heard a splash, but

could see nothing, it being at this time dark.

“During the night, when we occasionally conversed—for we had but little to

say, each being wrapped up in his own gloomy meditations—we felt a glow of

satisfaction that at last a contrivance had been resorted to by which two

of us at least were rescued from spending another night upon the rock, we

not at this time at all considering that both had met a watery grave, for

we could see nothing—it was dark—neither could we hear anything, from the

howling of the storm and roaring of the tempest.

“In the morning, however, in consequence of the rope having broken, we

entertained a melancholy surmise of their unhappy fate; but upon landing,

in the afternoon of Monday, we ascertained the piteous fact. It was

rumoured, but it proved to be untrue, that the peasants, during the second

night (Sunday) of our dreadful suspense upon the rock, had cut the rope.

This arose in consequence of its having been found divided early on Monday

morning.”

Next morning the good Samaritans ashore repaired to the scene, and eagerly

scanned the rock, to see whether any still survived. Among them was Lady

Roberts, who came with thirty of her men, with a car laden with ropes and

other materials necessary for their deliverance. The first plan attempted

early on Monday morning was with Manby’s apparatus—_i.e._, firing a

two-pound shot with a line attached from a howitzer. After many fruitless

attempts this plan was relinquished. Slings, &c., were then tried, but

with the same result.

Dr. Spolasco took off his cap, and repeatedly waved it, in order to

attract the observation of those on shore. Having succeeded, he raised his

voice and extended his arms, pointing to either promontory, and indicating

that unless they had recourse to Mr. Hull’s plan, as it was subsequently

ascertained to be, their fate would be decided. Fortunately he was

understood, and the plan was prosecuted to its completion, all working

with a will. They again extended the lines from headland to headland, with

this variation only, that they now attached two tripping-lines instead of

one, hanging about a yard apart, and a weight to the end of each, which

had the desired effect of causing them to fall immediately over the rock.

They were immediately grasped; their hope of safety was fully revived, and

they again cheered with hopeful exultation. They retained a secure hold of

the centre of the line, while those upon the two cliffs proceeded to a

centre point on the mainland immediately opposite to them, and instantly

attached the hawser to one end of the line in question. Having

accomplished this, they made signs to those on the rock to draw towards

them the hawser, to which they had fastened a small basket containing a

bottle of wine, a bottle of whisky, and some bread, the thoughtful gift of

Lady Roberts. The liquids proved invaluable, but as for the bread,

excepting a few crumbs, they could not swallow it. They had, from cold,

exposure, and exhaustion, almost lost the power of mastication and

deglutition.

The basket also contained a written paper, instructing those on the rock

that, as the hawser was sufficiently long, to make it fast round the rock,

that it might be the more secure, and that they would pass a cot along it

with iron grummets. Having so fixed the cot, the signals were made to draw

it towards the rock by means of the small line. The awful example afforded

on Monday morning, when it was perceived that the rope was broken,

naturally made several of them nervous now, and there was some hesitation

as to who should enter it first to be drawn on shore, seeing that it had

to be hauled a distance of sixty to a hundred feet above the level of the

sea in order to land upon the lowest accessible part of the cliff, where

Mr. Hull, the inventor of the plan, was stationed to receive them. On

landing, they had to be carried to the summit of the nearly perpendicular

cliff, about 300 feet, upon men’s backs, supported on either side by

others of their deliverers, for the least false step would have hurried

them headlong to the depths below.

After some deliberation, the first to be placed in the cot was a woman

named Mary Leary, who was assisted into it, and drawn through the air to

what seemed a frightful height, amid the cheers of all. On her being

landed, the cot was again lowered to the rock, and the narrator of our

story entered it, lying upon his back. Giving the signal that he was

ready, those on the mainland pulled, and in a few minutes he was safe on

the cliff, where he received the warm congratulations of the gentlemen

there assembled. The ship’s carpenter, who was evidently very ill, was

next placed in the cot, but the poor fellow breathed his last almost

immediately after landing. The others soon followed, the captain, as

should be, being the last. Once ashore, they were treated with

warm-hearted hospitality, and a liberal subscription was raised for the

sufferers of the crew and passengers, and the widows and orphans of those

who were lost. Of fifty persons who left Cork on the ill-fated

_Killarney_, about twenty-five landed on the rock, and of these only

fourteen reached land, one of them, as we have seen, to expire

immediately.

The mode by which the few survivors were rescued was so novel that it

deserves particular notice, and the following, quoted from a letter

written by Mr. E. W. Hull to Baron Spolasco, will be found interesting.

“The first intelligence my brother and myself received of the wreck was

from Mr. John Galwey, at about nine or ten o’clock on Sunday morning. We

immediately proceeded towards the scene of the dreadful catastrophe, which

is about five miles from Roberts’ Cove, and arrived there at eleven

o’clock. My brother’s men, of course, accompanied us. On our reaching the

place, I descended the frightful precipice, at the foot of which I

discovered Mr. Galwey letting ducks fly with lines attached to them. I

joined him in the experiment, though indeed I entertained not the least

hope of its proving effective. We abandoned this plan, and having taken

off my coat and hat, and placed a rope round my waist, to prevent my

falling over the lower cliff upon which we stood, I commenced using all

the means I could devise to convey a stone with a line attached to it to

the rock. I first made an effort to throw a stone from my hand; next, I,

with others, had recourse to slings; but all our experiments, as the

sequel proved, were useless. I may here, without the least exaggeration,

assert that the danger to which Mr. John Galwey, young Mr. Knolles, and

myself, were exposed was beyond the power of conception. Below us appeared

a hideous gulf, almost yawning to receive us from the cliff upon which we

stood, while from above we saw large stones rolling down from a height of

two hundred feet. To avoid being struck by these we had not the power of

moving an inch from the place in which we respectively stood; so that in

this, as in all other circumstances connected with our dangerous

undertakings on the occasion, we were protected in our frightful situation

by the peculiar interposition of Providence. We next had recourse to the

plan of a person named Mills, of the Coastguard at Roberts’ Cove. It was

that of attaching wire to bullets, and firing them from guns. This plan

likewise proved unsuccessful.

“At this time, when all our plans had become unavailing, those who had

been acting with me below went to the top of the cliff. Being exceedingly

exhausted I was unable to follow. I lay down on the brink of the

precipice, nearly on a line with the top of the rock upon which the

sufferers were, and feeling as a human being should at so heartrending a

spectacle, when all hope of saving a single individual was almost extinct.

I exclaimed, ‘Good God! are there no means left to save them?’ At this

moment I took a view of the east promontory and the west. The thought—the

happy thought—flashed across my mind. I immediately perceived that

Providence favoured us with a tolerable certainty of success. I ascended

the precipice, and made my brother acquainted with my plan. We both

suggested it to others, but it was disregarded, owing to the great

distance between the promontories and the immense height of the cliffs.

However, I saw a glorious prospect before me of rescuing my

fellow-creatures from an awful death. Heaven inspired me with confidence,

and, in conjunction with my brother, I could not be diverted from making a

trial. My brother and the neighbouring gentlemen sent in all directions

for lines and ropes. On getting them, we commenced putting my plan into

execution. The first attempt failed through want of sufficiency of rope

and the setting in of night. When the rope was carried to the rock and

there secured, I perceived that one man got upon it. Had he alone

ventured, all would be right; but the eagerness of another poor fellow was

so great that he attached himself to it, and the weight of the two was

overmuch for the rope to bear, and it consequently broke. How we felt at

this dreadful occurrence your readers may imagine; I cannot describe the

fearful thrill of horror which pervaded every breast. It was now dark

night; we had therefore to discontinue our efforts until the next morning.

We left the lines during the intervening night as we had adjusted them the

evening before. My brother left two of his men, with one of Lieutenant

Charlesson’s, to preserve the rope and property during the night.

[Illustration: RESCUE OF THE SURVIVORS OF THE “KILLARNEY.”]

“To return to the subject of my communication, I should state that, on

ascending the cliff I met Lady Roberts and Captain Knolles. I told them of

the loss of one man, not knowing at the time that a second had also

suffered—this information, indeed, I afterwards received from yourself. I,

notwithstanding this sad disaster, felt persuaded that if I had a

sufficient quantity of rope all would be saved. I mentioned this to Lady

Roberts, upon which her ladyship assured me that I should be plentifully

supplied with this article. Though painful to our feelings to be obliged

to leave you to spend another night of gloom and horror, we were under the

necessity of doing so for want of a sufficient quantity of rope. On the

following morning (Monday) I arrived at the cliff, accompanied by my

brother and his men, an hour before daylight. The weather was dreadful

beyond conception, rain and snow falling incessantly. We immediately

proceeded to bring into operation the plan of the former day. We were at

this time much better enabled to do so, having obtained a sufficiency of

rope by the directions of Lady Roberts, who, to the honour of her sex, was

present at that early hour, exposed to the inclemency of the weather.

Lieutenant Irwin, Inspector of the Coastguard at Kinsale, arrived about

this time with Captain Manby’s apparatus. This gentleman, having, I

presume, had some previous experience of the capability of similar

machines, commenced discharging balls from it. This suspended the

operation of my plan for some time, but it was found altogether

ineffective; but I consider it right to state that no man could have

manifested a greater anxiety than Mr. Irwin to do good. The lines and

ropes which he brought us were essentially necessary in putting the

successful plan into execution; he also brought the cot....

“In about two hours I had the satisfaction of seeing fourteen persons

safely landed from the rock, but one of them, I regret to say, died of

exhaustion a short time after having been brought on shore.

“The hawser, as you perceived, had to be taken down a precipice of nearly

three hundred feet. To the end of it was joined the line which you had

primarily received upon the rock, also a basket of refreshments. I myself

took it all down to the lower cliff, where I received each person on being

drawn from the rock. The dangers to which myself and three of the

coastguard were exposed on that occasion were not, I assure you,

trifling.”

About a fortnight after the wreck of the _Killarney_, a large portion of

the rock upon which the remnant of the crew and passengers had suffered so

much was carried away in a storm. It is worthy of remark that during the

American War a vessel conveying a company and band of the 32nd Regiment of

Foot was lost on the same rock, when all perished.

There can be no doubt that a life-boat, had there been one, would have

rescued many more of the poor unfortunates, left on the rock from Friday

afternoon to Monday afternoon, with considerable ease. During the year

1876-77, not very far from _five thousand_ lives were saved by the fleet

of 269 boats of the National Life-boat Institution. Let us examine the

wreck record of that period.(100)

We find that the number of British vessels which entered and cleared from

ports of the United Kingdom during the year in question was 581,099,

representing the enormous tonnage of 101,799,050. Of these ships, 224,669

were steamers, having a tonnage of about two-thirds of the above amount.

During the same period 60,000 foreign vessels entered inwards and cleared

outwards from British ports, representing a tonnage of nearly 20,000,000.

These 641,099 ships, British and foreign, had probably on board, _apart

from passengers_, 4,000,000 men and boys.

In 1876-77 the number of wrecks, casualties, and collisions, from all

causes, on and near the coasts of the United Kingdom, was 4,164, which

number exceeds that of the previous year by 407. 511 cases out of this

large number involved total loss, 502 and 472 representing the same class

of calamities for the two preceding years.

During the past twenty years-from 1857 to 1876-77—the number of shipwrecks

on our coasts alone has averaged 1,948 a year, representing in money value

millions upon millions sterling in the aggregate.

“In making this statement,” says _The Life-boat_, “we lay aside entirely

the thousands of precious lives, on which no money value could be placed,

which were sacrificed on such disastrous occasions, and which would have

been enormously increased in the absence of the determined and gallant

services of the life-boats of the National Life-boat Institution.

“In the Abstract of the Wreck Register it is stated that, between 1861 and

1876-77, the number of ships, both British and foreign, wrecked on our

coasts which were attended with loss of life was 2,784, causing the loss

of 13,098 persons. In 1876-77, loss of life took place in one out of every

twenty-two shipwrecks on our coasts.

“It is hardly necessary to say that gales of wind are the prime causes of

most shipwrecks, and that those of 1876-77 will long be remembered for

their violence and destructive character. Of the 4,164 wrecks, casualties,

and collisions, reported as having occurred on and near the coasts of the

United Kingdom during the year 1876-77, we find that the total comprised

5,017 vessels. Thus, the number of ships in 1876-77 is more than the total

in 1875-76 by 463. The number of ships reported is in excess of the

casualties reported, because in cases of collision two or more ships are

involved in one casualty. Thus, 847 were collisions, and 3,317 were wrecks

and casualties other than collisions. Of these latter casualties, 446 were

wrecks, &c., resulting in total loss, 902 were casualties resulting in

serious damage, and 1,969 were minor accidents. The whole number of wrecks

and casualties other than collisions on and near our coasts reported

during the year 1875-76 was 2,982, or 335 less than the number reported

during the twelve months under discussion.

“The localities of the wrecks, still excluding collisions, are thus

given:—East coasts of England and Scotland, 1,140; south coast, 630; west

coast of England and Scotland, and coast of Ireland, 1,259; north coast of

Scotland, 129; and other parts, 159. Total, 3,317.” “It is recorded that

the greatest destruction of human life happened on the north and east

coasts of England and Scotland.”

It is interesting to observe the ages of the vessels which were wrecked

during the period under consideration. Excluding foreign ships and

collision cases, 221 wrecks and casualties happened to nearly new ships,

and 396 to ships from 3 to 7 years of age. Then there are wrecks and

casualties to 631 ships from 7 to 14 years old, and to 907 from 15 to 30

years old. Then follow 459 old ships from 30 to 50 years old. Having

passed the service of half a century, we come to the very old ships, viz.,

71 between 50 and 60 years old, 33 from 60 to 70, 24 from 70 to 80, 9 from

80 to 90, and 5 from 90 to 100, while the ages of 68 of the wrecks are

unknown.

On distinguishing these last named casualties near the coasts of the

United Kingdom, according to the force of the wind at the time at which

they happened, we find that 739 happened with the wind at forces 7 and 8,

or a moderate to fresh gale, when a ship, if properly found, manned, and

navigated, can keep the sea with safety; and that 1,046 happened with the

wind at force 9 and upwards, that is to say, from a strong gale to a

hurricane.

“We must say one word on the subject of casualties to our ships in our

rivers and harbours, as the fearful calamity to the steamer _Princess

Alice_ last September in the Thames has directed afresh intense attention

to them throughout the civilised world. We find from the Wreck Register

Abstract that the total number during the year 1876-77 was 984, of which

17 were total losses, 245 were serious casualties, and 722 minor

casualties.

“Of these casualties, collisions numbered 658, founderings 13, strandings

184, and miscellaneous 129.

“These 984 casualties caused the loss of or damage to 1,725 vessels, of

which 1,020 were British sailing-vessels, 560 British steam-vessels, 118

foreign sailing-vessels, and 27 foreign steam-vessels. The lives lost in

these casualties were 15.

“With reference to the collisions on and near our coasts during the year

1876-77, 48 of the 847 collisions were between two steamships both under

way, irrespective of numerous other such cases in our harbours and rivers,

the particulars of which are not given in the Abstract. No disaster at sea

or in a river is often more awful in its consequences than a collision, as

was too strikingly illustrated last year in the cases of the German

ironclad _Grosser Kurfürst_, and the Thames steamer _Princess Alice_.

“As regards the loss of life, the Wreck Abstract shows that the number was

776, and of these 92 were lost in vessels that foundered, 57 through

vessels in collision, 470 in vessels stranded or cast ashore, and 93 in

missing vessels. The remaining number of lives lost (64) were lost from

various causes, such as through being washed overboard in heavy seas,

explosions, missing vessels, &c.

“This number (776) may appear to the casual observer a comparatively small

one by the side of the thousands who escaped disaster from the numerous

shipwrecks before mentioned. We are, however, of opinion that it is a very

large number; and when we bear in mind the inestimable value of human

life, we are convinced that no effort should be left untried which can in

any way lessen the annual loss of life from shipwreck on our coasts.

“On the other hand, great and noble work was accomplished during the same

period, 4,795 lives having been saved from the various shipwrecks. In

bringing about that most important service, it is hardly necessary to say

that the craft of the National Life-boat Institution played a most

important part, in conjunction with the Board of Trade’s rocket apparatus,

which is so efficiently worked by the Coastguard and our Volunteer

Brigades.

“Nevertheless, the aggregate loss of life is very large, and so is the

aggregate destruction of property. The former is a species of woe

inflicted on humanity; the latter is practically a tax upon commerce.

While the art of saving life on the coasts is understood (thanks to the

progress of science—the earnestness of men—and the stout hearts of our

coast population), the art of preserving property is as yet but

imperfectly known amongst us, and still more imperfectly practised.

“On reviewing the Wreck Register Abstract of the past year, we are bound

to take courage from the many gratifying facts it reveals in regard to

saving life, which, after all, is our principal object in commenting upon

it. Noble work has been done, and is doing, for that purpose; and is it

not something, amidst all this havoc of the sea, to help to save even one

life, with all its hopes, and to keep the otherwise desolate home

unclouded?”

Among the useful works undertaken by the National Life-boat Institution is

the discussion in its journal of all matters connected with the art of

swimming, and swimming and floating apparatus. The Society also issues a

valuable circular on the “Treatment of the apparently Drowned,” to which

further allusion will be hereafter made. The writer is so satisfied that

no humane or charitable institution in the wide world is better or more

economically managed than that under notice, that he would urge all

readers of THE SEA to contribute to its funds. And although every reader

may not be able to afford his guinea or guineas, he can contribute his

shillings or half-crowns, and his influence in aiding one of the local

branches, or in forming new ones. A number of life-boats stationed on

various parts of the coasts were the gifts of other associations and

bodies. The Civil Service, Corn Exchange, Coal Exchange, Freemasons, Odd

Fellows, Foresters, Good Templars, and other orders, have contributed

nobly. Several boats and stations, generally named after the particular

fund, were contributed by London and other Sunday-schools, Jewish

scholars, commercial travellers, workmen, yacht, boat, and other clubs;

while three were the result of an appeal to the readers of the Quiver, two

are credited to the _Dundee People’s Journal_, and one each to the

_British Workman_ and _English Mechanic_. And in concluding the second

volume of THE SEA, the writer considers that he has a special right to

urge the claims of the Society on his readers, the subject-matter of its

pages being taken into account.

END OF VOLUME II.

CASSELL PETTER & GALPIN, BELLE SAUVAGE WORKS, LONDON, E.C.

FOOTNOTES

1 “Select observations of the incomparable Sir Walter Raleigh relating

to trade,” as presented to King James.

2 “History of Merchant Shipping and Ancient Commerce.”

3 Monson’s “Naval Tracts” in Churchill’s “Collection.” Most of the

narrative to follow is taken from the same source.

4 Charnock, “History of Naval Architecture.”

5 This contemptuous allusion refers of course to the tobacco brought

from the newly-formed plantations in Virginia.

6 Macaulay: “History of England.”

7 The term “America” often included the West Indies, &c., at that

period.

8 The principal authorities are—“The History of Peter the Great, &c.,”

by Alexander Gordon, who was several years a major-general in the

Russian service, and was son-in-law of the General Patrick Gordon

who may be said to have once saved Russia to the Czar; “Histoire de

Pierre le Grand,” by Voltaire; and the “Life of Peter the Great,” by

John Barrow, F.R.S., &c. A modern French writer has given a

catalogue of ninety-five authors of some little note who have

treated of Peter’s life.

9 This name is spelled by the various authorities in many ways;

sometimes it is Zaardam.

10 One account says, indeed, that he worked with his own hands as hard

as any man in the yard. “If so,” says Barrow, “it could only have

been for a very short time, and probably for no other purpose than

to show the builders that he knew how to handle the adze as well as

themselves.”

11 The site of Evelyn’s mansion was long covered with a workhouse; the

shady walks and splendidly kept hedges are now replaced by a

victualling yard, where oxen and hogs are slaughtered for the use of

the navy, and the transformation of all his haunts in the

neighbourhood has been unpleasantly complete.

12 Scheltema, a Dutch authority cited by Barrow.

13 One of the very best accounts of the South Sea Bubble is to be found

in Charles Mackay’s “Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions,”

frequently quoted above.

14 The Rev. Richard Walter, M.A., Chaplain of the _Centurion_, who

compiled the work so well known under the title of Anson’s “Voyage

Round the World,” from the papers and material of the latter.

15 “The Narrative of the Honourable John Byron, containing an Account

of the Great Distresses suffered by himself and his Companions on

the Coast of Patagonia, from the year 1740 till their Arrival in

England, 1746,” &c.

16 “Two or three days after our arrival” (at Santiago), says Byron,

“the President sent Mr. Campbell and me an invitation to dine with

him, where we were to meet Admiral Pizarro and all his officers.

This was a cruel stroke upon us, as we had not any cloaths to appear

in, and dared not refuse the invitation. The next day, a Spanish

officer belonging to Admiral Pizarro’s squadron, whose name was Don

Manuel de Guiror, came and made us an offer of two thousand dollars.

This generous Spaniard made this offer without any view of ever

being repaid, but purely out of a compassionate motive of relieving

us in our present distress.” A part of the money was thankfully

accepted, and they got themselves decently clothed.

17 James Grahame, “The History of the United States of North America.”

18 George Bancroft, “History of the United States.”

19 The above account is principally derived from Bancroft.

20 Robert Stuart, “Historical and Descriptive Anecdotes of

Steam-Engines.”

21 John MacGregor, in a paper read before the Society of Arts, 14th of

April, 1858.

22 William Bourne, “Inventions or Devises” (1578).

23 “A Sketch of the Origin and Progress of Steam Navigation,” by Bennet

Woodcroft.

24 This brochure is extremely scarce. The curious in such matters will

find it reprinted in full in Woodcroft’s “Sketch of the Origin and

Progress of Steam Navigation.”

25 “History of Merchant Shipping,” &c.

_ 26 Philadelphia Dispatch._ February 9th, 1873.

_ 27 Vide_ “Bowie on Steam Navigation;” and the works of Lindsay and

Woodcroft, already quoted.

28 “The Life of R. Fulton” is an American work, and so little known in

England, that the present writer has intentionally made the above

copious extracts from it.

29 The engine of this vessel is to be seen in the Patent Office Museum.

30 Smiles’ “Lives of the Engineers.”

31 In an able pamphlet, “The Fleet of the Future,” by Mr. Scott

Russell, published by Longmans & Co. in 1861, the author remarks (p.

20):—“A good many years ago, I happened to converse with the chief

naval architect of one of our dockyards on the subject of building

ships of iron. The answer was characteristic, and the feeling it

expressed so strong and natural that I have never forgotten it.

‘Don’t talk to me about iron ships, _it’s contrary to nature_.’

There was at one time almost as great a prejudice against Indian

teak as a material for shipbuilding, as this wood is heavier than

water, and, in the form of a log, will not float.”

32 The above account is derived from Lindsay.

33 See _Annual Register_, 1854, p. 162.

34 The _Times_, November 17th, 1875.

35 “Our Seamen: an Appeal.”

36 An excess of that very aliment, the absence of which produces

scurvy, will also induce disease. Thus, the negroes of the West

Indies live too exclusively on vegetables, and disease follows, the

remedy for which is usually _red herrings_—herrings salted and

smoked till they are as red as copper.

37 The _Times_, January 14th, 1867.

38 “English Seamen and Divers.”

39 Frederick Martin: “The History of Lloyd’s and of Marine Insurance in

Great Britain.”

40 The term is applied exclusively to maritime insurers, although,

strictly speaking, anyone signing a bond is an underwriter.

41 See Lindsay’s “History of Merchant Shipping,” Timbs’ “Year Book of

Facts in Science and Art,” and Irving’s “Annals of Our Times.” She

is still nearly _five_ times the size of any merchant vessel afloat;

as we have seen, the Inman steamer, _City of Berlin_ (5,500 tons),

comes next to her. There are ironclads nearly half her tonnage.

42 One account says a “ferry-boat,” meaning probably one of the large

steam ferry-boats common in America.

43 “Sunning” means, in some parts of Canada, the act of promenading.

44 The larger part of the above information is derived from “Our

Ironclad Ships,” by E. J. Reed, late Chief Constructor of the Navy.

45 The _Times_, April 26th, 1876.

_ 46 Vide_ “Our Ironclad Ships.”

47 C. D. Colden: “Life of Robert Fulton.”

48 “Torpedo War, and Submarine Explosions” (New York, 1810). A scarce

and valuable _brochure_.

49 Such a vessel as the _Albemarle_ would be scorned in England and

America now-a-days, if regarded as an ironclad. But she was, of

course, infinitely stronger than the wooden ships with which she had

to fight.

50 The explosive power of dynamite, or “giant powder,” as it is known

in America, is something wonderful. The writer while in California

witnessed some experiments with it, which are indelibly written on

his brain. A mortar was set upright in the field appropriated for

the exhibition, and several pounds of ordinary powder having been

rammed down, a large cannon-ball was put in and the charge fired.

The ball was raised a foot or so, and then tumbled to the ground. A

few _ounces_ of dynamite and the same ball were placed in the

mortar, and the charge exploded by concussion. The cannon-ball was

projected upwards in the air several hundred feet. It will be

imagined that the writer and his friends scattered in all

directions, and watched very carefully the downward flight of the

ball.

51 “The Gun, Ram, and Torpedo.” (Prize Essay written for the Junior

Naval Professional Association, 1874.) By Commander Gerard H. U.

Noel, R.N.

52 “The Life of Smeaton,” as incorporated in his “Lives of the

Engineers.”

53 It appears that a post-mortem examination of one of the

light-keepers who died from injuries received during the fire took

place some thirteen days after its occurrence, and a flat oval piece

of lead some seven ounces in weight was taken out of his stomach,

having proved the cause of his death.

54 “Essays on Engineering.”

55 The Hoe is an elevated promenade, forming the sea-front of Plymouth,

and overlooking the Sound.

56 The following is the tradition from an ancient source:—“By the east

of the Isle of May, twelve miles from all land in the German Sea,

lyes a great hidden rock, called Inchcape, very dangerous to the

navigators, because it is overflowed every tide. It is reported

that, in old times, there was upon the said rock a bell, fixed upon

a tree or timber, which rang continually, being moved by the sea,

giving notice to the saylors of the danger. This bell or clocke was

put there by the Abbot of Arberbrothok, and being taken down by a

sea-pirate, a year thereafter he perished upon the same rock, with

ship and goodes, by the righteous judgment of God.” (Stoddart’s

“Remarks on Scotland.”)

57 “Account of the Skerryvore Lighthouse, with Notes on the

Illumination of Lighthouses,” by Alan Stevenson.

58 “A Rudimentary Treatise on the History, Construction, and

Illumination of Lighthouses.” (Weale’s Series.)

_ 59 Vide_ “The Rambles of a Naturalist on the Coasts of France, Spain,

and Sicily.”

60 M. Quatrefages de Bréau, the distinguished French naturalist and

philosopher, says that the revolving apparatus was partially due to

M. Lemoine, a citizen, and at one time Mayor, of Calais.

61 It was exposed twice to terrific storms during its construction. In

1808 the battery was submerged, the parapet upset, and the barracks

and garrison, with sixty men, swept away. But the large blocks of

stone were afterwards found to be more securely stowed than they had

been before.

62 “An amount of material,” says a well-known authority, “at least

equal to that contained in the Great Pyramid.”

63 “Lives of the Engineers.”

64 The _Times_, September 14th, 1861.

65 Horace Moule in Weldon’s “Register of Facts and Occurrences relating

to Literature, the Sciences, and the Arts,” December, 1862.

66 As described in the latter chapter on the lighthouse.

67 This was the same gale which destroyed Winstanley’s Eddystone

Lighthouse, the first erected on the rock, as already described. It

is to be noted that Winstanley’s house, at Littlebury, in Essex, 200

miles from the lighthouse, fell down and was utterly destroyed in

the same storm.

68 This narrative differs from the more circumstantial account given by

Defoe, doubtless from official authorities. The vessel had seventy

guns, and 349 men; the latter, likely enough, may not have been her

full complement.

69 A large part of the information incorporated above is derived from

one of the least known of Defoe’s works, entitled, “The Storm: or, a

Collection of the most Remarkable Casualities and Disasters which

happened in the Late Dreadful Tempest, both by Sea and Land.”

70 Although so severe in England and a large part of the Continent,

Scotland scarce felt the fury of the gale. Defoe, in his poem on the

subject, says:—

“They tell us Scotland ’scaped the blast;

No nation else have been without a taste:

All Europe sure have felt the mighty shock,

’T has been a universal stroke.

But heaven has other ways to plague the Scots,

As poverty and plots.”

71 “History of the Life-boat and its Work,” by Richard Lewis, of the

Inner Temple, Esq., Secretary of the National Life-boat Institution.

72 Including the grand name of William Wilberforce.

73 Its revenue is now approximately ten times the above amount.

74 For the perilous nature of the employment, the pay is ridiculously

small. It must be, however, in fairness to the Institution,

remembered that it is a society depending on the benevolent public

for its support, and is not a Government concern. Each boat has its

appointed coxswain at a salary of £8 per annum, and assistants at £2

per annum. On every occasion of going afloat to save life, the

coxswain and his men receive alike, 10s. if by day, and £1 if by

night.

75 “Storm Warriors; or, Life-boat Work on the Goodwin Sands,” by the

Rev. John Gilmore, M.A.

_ 76 The Times_, November 5th, 1866.

_ 77 The Times_, January 6th, 1876.

_ 78 The Shipwrecked Mariner._ A Quarterly Maritime Journal. Vol. XXII.

1875. (Organ of the “Shipwrecked Mariner’s Society.”) The article is

from the pen of Lindon Saunders, Esq.

_ 79 The Life-boat: a Journal of the Life-boat Institution._ November

2nd, 1874.

80 The following account is based mainly on the reports published in

the _Times_.

81 A part of the crew behaved in a most cowardly manner, and thought

only of saving themselves, although Captain Knowles and Mr. Brand,

the chief officer, who stood nobly by their posts, did all in their

power to shame these recreants, and themselves went down with the

ship. The lines quoted above were written by a graduate of Pembroke

College, Cambridge, whose promising career was cut short by death at

an early age. The poem, described as “A Fragment,” is given in full

in _The Lifeboat_ for February 1st, 1878.

82 Vide _The Life-boat; or, Journal of the National Life-boat

Institution_. August 2, 1875.

83 The Scilly Islands, thirty miles from the Land’s End, are 140 in

number, and range in extent from one to 1,600 acres, several of the

larger being fully inhabited. They are flanked by the grandest rock

scenery, and surrounded by reefs and rocks innumerable.

84 Captain Thomas had, we were told on other authority, navigated the

_Schiller_ across the Atlantic and past the treacherous Scillies

eight times. He imagined himself to be far from a point of danger;

and old sea-captains assert that it is not uncommon for a vessel to

be in advance of her commander’s calculations—in other words, she

may plough through the water faster than he is aware. In this case

the sun had been absent for three days, and the course had been kept

by dead reckoning.

_ 85 The Lifeboat_, &c., February 1st, 1876.

86 Shortly after the wreck of the _Deutschland_, the same tug-boat, the

_Liverpool_, rescued from certain death the crew of another foreign

ship, this time a Norwegian vessel, wrecked on the Ship-wash

sandbank; and the Ramsgate life-boat, summoned by telegram from

Harwich, was towed by the steam-tug _Aid_ no less than forty-five

miles to the scene of the disaster—only to find on arrival there

that the shipwrecked crew had already been saved by the Harwich

tug—and then another forty-five miles on her return. The fifteen

poor fellows on board had then been fourteen hours sitting in their

boat, with the seas and spray breaking over them through the whole

of this terrible voyage in a freezing atmosphere. They landed in a

benumbed and half-frozen state, from the effects of which some of

them were sure to suffer severely afterwards.

_ 87 The Lifeboat_, &c., Feb. 1st, 1876.

88 “The Loss of the _Amazon_.” By the Rev. C. A. Johns, B.A., F.L.S.,

&c.

89 In sea-going steam-vessels the salt water employed in the boilers

incrusts the sides with a deposit of salt, and it is necessary to

“blow off” every now and again, and discharge the water from them.

90 Eliot Warburton, the author of “The Crescent and the Cross,” &c.,

&c.

91 “The _Amazon_:” A sermon preached at St. Andrew’s Church, Plymouth,

January 18th, 1852, by the Rev. William Blood (one of the

survivors).

92 This is common enough in all the great steamship lines, where

certain vessels acquire a name for speed and accommodation, and

where the captain is known as a first-class commander. Passengers

who can afford to wait often delay their trips for weeks for the

opportunity of sailing on a favourite ship.

93 The Rev. D. J. Draper, a man of fifty-six years of age, was

returning to Australia, where for thirty years he had laboured as a

missionary, and where he was very generally and deservedly

respected. Part of the information respecting the wreck is taken

from “The Storm and the Haven,” a tribute to his memory, published

in Melbourne the year of the terrible occurrence.

94 The official inquiry of the Board of Trade elicited the fact that

the number was somewhat smaller. The total number of souls on board

was 263, and of these 19 were saved, leaving the number who perished

at 244.

95 It is a fact that Captain Martin had an interest in the _London_ to

the extent of £5,000. Hard to lose life and property so valuable—may

be, so important to others at home—at one and the same time!

96 The above account is principally derived from a “Narrative of the

Loss of the _Rothsay Castle_,” by Lieut. R. J. Morrison, R.N., and

other sources.

97 The writer has seen nearly the same thing practised on the

flat-bottomed stern-wheel steamers common in some parts of America,

where, in shallow water, the passengers have been required to walk

to the other side of the vessel, and literally “tip” her on that

side. On one occasion in a “slough,” or shallow passage, he saw a

number of the passengers and crew literally step out into the water

and push the boat along, till, with their exertions and the

steam-power, she was got off the bank.

_ 98 Vide_ “Letters, &c., on the Loss of the _Rothsay Castle_.” By the

Rev. J. H. Stewart.

99 “Narrative of the Wreck of the Steamer _Killarney_,” &c. By Baron

Spolasco, M.D., &c., &c.

100 Our information is derived from an article on the subject in _The

Life-boat_ for November 1st, 1878.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs

and are near the text they illustrate.

Several illustrations which were missing from the List of Illustrations

have been added to it. They can be identified by the missing page numbers

in the list.

The following changes have been made to the text:

page vii, “Parayaguan” changed to “Paraguayan”

page 2, “succesfully” changed to “successfully”

page 10, “Trindad” changed to “Trinidad”

page 14, period added after “cwt”

page 15, quote mark removed before “Monson’s”

page 34, quote mark added before “unparalleled”

page 59, quote mark added after “them.”

page 82, quote mark added after “it.”

page 83, quote mark added before “we”

page 86, quote mark added after “crazy!”

page 107, colon changed to period after “dews”

page 113, “is” changed to “it”

page 120, quote mark added after “matter....”

page 126, quote mark added after “Lloyd’s”

page 129, “o f” changed to “off”

page 146, quote mark added after “ALEXANDRA.”

page 173, single quote mark added after “Arberbrothok.”

page 177, quote mark added after “cry.”

page 182, “occuping” changed to “occupying”

page 183, “Frith” changed to “Firth”

page 207, quote mark added after “increased.”

page 210, “make” changed to “made”, quote mark added after “skeel”

page 217, quote mark added after “rescue!”

page 222, “seaman” changed to “seamen”

page 268, “mother” changed to “mothers”

page 283, quote mark added after “perish.”

page 298, “pasengers” changed to “passengers”

page 319, quote mark added after “3,317.”

Differences between the table of contents and the chapter summaries have

not been corrected. Neither have variations in hyphenation been

normalized.