Cousin Giles finds an old Shipmate--Tom Puffing's Account of the Wreck
of the _Victoria_--Miraculous Escape of Part of the Crew--God's
merciful Providence displayed--Cousin Giles converses with the Crew--
First Sight of Denmark, Elsinore, and its Castle--View of Copenhagen--
Description of the Battle and its Cause--Sunday Service on board
Ship--Voyage up the Baltic--The Gulf of Finland--Cronstadt and its
Batteries--Why the British did not take them--The Czar's Mode of
Manning a Ship in a Hurry--The Russian Fleet--Leave their Steamer and
proceed towards Saint Petersburg.
Cousin Giles soon found his way forward, over the bales of cotton and
piles of hay, followed by Fred and Harry, and entered into conversation
with the crew. He had not been long there when an old weather-beaten
seaman put his head up the fore hatchway. "Ah! Tom Pulling. I thought
that I had caught sight of the face of an old shipmate," exclaimed
Cousin Giles, stretching out his hand. "How fares it with you?"
The old man's countenance brightened as he returned the grasp warmly.
"Is it you, indeed? I am glad to see you--that I am," he answered.
"I've a good berth now, though I've had knocking about enough since I
sailed with you last in the _Juno_. I was cast away in these very parts
some time back, and never had a narrower chance of losing my life, so to
speak."
Cousin Giles asked old Tom how this had happened. The other seamen who
were not on duty drew near to listen to the old man's oft-spun yarn, and
our young friends stood by, eager to hear what he had got to say.
"Why, you see, sir," he replied, "after I was discharged from the old
_Melampus_, I thought I'd try if a short-voyage steamer would suit me
better than a man-of-war, seeing that I'd got a wife and family to look
after; so I shipped on board the _Victoria_ steamer, running from the
port of Hull to Saint Petersburg. It was our last voyage that year.
About the 6th of November, I think, we left the Humber; but we hoped to
get to Cronstadt and away again before the ice set in. The weather was
as fair as could be wished for, and with smooth water; so we all made up
our minds that we were going to have a quick run of it. Howsomever, the
wind breezed up a little on the second day, and by nightfall it blew
pretty freshish, with a heavyish sea on. We had much the same sort of
weather on the third day, and at night it came on so thick and dark that
we could not see our hands held out before us. Still all seemed going
on well. We supposed that we were steering a course through the
Skaggerack, with a good offing from the land, when, just about the
middle of the first watch, as the passengers were in the cabin, maybe
thinking of turning in to their warm beds all snug, and talking of what
they would do next day at Copenhagen, where we were to touch, without an
instant's warning--bang! Crash!--loud shrieks and cries of terror were
heard, the ship quivered from stem to stern as if her last moment was
come. It was not far off, either; the sea came roaring up abaft and
made a clean sweep over her. She had struck heavily on a rock of some
sort, that was certain; but where we were, or how it had happened, no
one could tell. Every one was running here and there, crying for help,
when there was no one to help them; some took to praying, some to
blaspheming; terror seemed to have taken away their senses. I did think
that all of us had seen the sun rise for the last time, for it was too
dark by far to allow us to try and help ourselves; and, from the way the
sea kept striking the ship, I knew full well she could not long hold
together.
"Well, Mr Fairman, I'm not ashamed to say I prayed as I never prayed
before; and, you'll believe me, sir, I felt a comfort and an assurance
of my Maker's protection which also I had never felt before. As my ears
caught the sound of the dreadful oaths of the blasphemers, I thought of
the Day of Judgment. When that awful time comes, and the world breaks
up like the ship, how will such men and many others, amid the clouds and
thick darkness which will surround them, be able to pray? No; they'll
blaspheme on, as they are doing now, to the end. The captain, to do him
but justice, behaved nobly. He did his best to keep order and
discipline on board. He told the people that, if they would but remain
by the ship, they all might be saved. He could not say, like Saint
Paul, they would be saved. Few listened to him; some, however, stayed
by his side and promised to support him. They had been on their knees
asking support for themselves; whence only it can come, you know, sir.
Others, on the contrary, got hold of one of the boats, and began to
lower her into the water. The captain prayed and begged of them to
desist, but they would not hearken to him. There were some of the crew
and some of the passengers, and when he tried to prevent them they
threatened to heave him overboard. At last they got the boat into the
water, and eight of them jumped into her and shoved off from the ship's
side. In an instant, as he had told them it would be, the boat was
capsized, and all hands were thrown into the raging sea. One poor
wretch had on a life-preserver--he thought, at all events, that he was
all safe, and that he could not drown; the rest had nothing to float
them. For half a minute their cries were heard, and then they sank
nearly all together, and his voice alone struck our ears, shrieking out
for help, but no help could be given him. He was striking out for the
ship, I judged; sometimes by his voice he seemed to have got nearer, but
that might have been my fancy; then a sea came rolling by, and drove him
farther off again. It was very dreadful to hear that poor dying wretch,
and not be able to help him. He was a strong man, and for long
struggled on; nearly an hour perhaps passed, but his voice grew fainter
and fainter, and at last was no longer heard.
"All this time the ship was striking heavily, hammering away on the rock
as if she was pile-driving. We burned all the blue lights we had on
board, in the hopes of drawing the attention of some fishermen or other
passing craft; but they only enabled those on board to see the horrors
of our situation. Nearly four hours had thus passed, when a shout from
the cook, who said he saw a signal, made us fancy help was coming to us;
but in another minute we found that it was only the moon rising through
a gap in the clouds. We all earnestly longed for morning, for till
daylight came we could do nothing. The moon only served to show us more
clearly the horrors of our situation. Piece after piece of the vessel
was washed away, but still all those who remained round the captain were
safe. At last there was a faint light in the east; it grew stronger and
stronger, and there was twilight enough to let us see to the distance of
a mile or two. About a mile off appeared a rock high enough out of the
water to serve us as a refuge. The captain at once ordered a boat to be
lowered, and all the women and children to be put into her, with five
men to pull her to the rock. It was a work of no little danger to the
poor creatures, but we at last got them all safe off, and with many a
prayer watched them till they reached the rock. We had another boat,
and there were fourteen of us remaining on the wreck. We all got into
her, but we instantly saw that thus crowded she would be swamped before
she could reach the shore. `Never mind, my fine fellows, I'll stay by
the wreck!' exclaimed the captain, jumping on board again. `Who'll
follow me?'
"`I'll stay by you, captain,' said I; and five others said the same.
The rest shoved off, and reached the rock in safety, but the sea was too
high to allow the boat to return. Then we seven souls were left on the
wreck, which was every moment breaking up beneath our feet. The
after-part of the vessel was soon completely gone--then we retreated
forward; then the forecastle--that soon began to break up, and we had to
hold on amidships. We tried to keep up each other's spirits by telling
how seamen had often been preserved in worse situations even than ours,
and most of us did not cease to pray to God to save us. The sea, after
we returned on board the wreck, got up even more than before.
"At last a sea, still heavier than the rest, came rolling towards us.
`Hold on! Hold on, my lads, for your lives!' shouted our brave captain;
but in a minute there was scarcely anything to hold on to. He himself
was carried away some fathoms from the wreck. Our situation was bad
enough, but it did not make us forget our captain. We would have done
anything to help him, but there was not a rope we could lay hold of to
heave to him. By God's mercy he had on a life-belt, and he got hold of
a piece of plank. Thus he kept afloat, and, working away with his feet,
he was able once more to reach the wreck. His return--it seemed almost
to life--cheered us up not a little. No long time, however, passed
before another sea struck the fragments to which we clung, knocking them
all to pieces, and sending us to float alone on the waves. One part
only of the wreck remained above the water--it was the boiler. We all
swam back to it, and clung on as well as we could; but we saw that, what
with the cold and the sea, which kept breaking over us, we should soon
be washed off again. `If we could but get inside the boiler, we might
find some shelter,' said the captain; but, try all we could, we could
not make a hole big enough to get through. We were almost in despair.
A fourth great sea came tumbling in on us. We all thought that it would
prove our destruction; so did the captain. `Good-bye, my lads,
good-bye!' he exclaimed. `God have mercy on us all!' On came the
breaker, and for a moment we were all under it. When it cleared away,
we were still holding on.
"Directly afterwards the engineer gave a shout of joy. `See what
Providence has sent us!' he cried out, as he held up a large pair of
blacksmith's pincers which that very sea we thought would destroy us had
washed on to the boiler. `God intends us to save our lives,' he added;
for he was a pious man, and always acknowledged whence all blessings
come to us. We set to work manfully with the pincers, and soon forced
off enough of the top of the boiler to let us all creep in. We felt
that it was firmly fixed on the rock, and here we were much more
sheltered than before from the sea. Hunger and cold next began to tell
on us. We had not before had time to feel either. One of our men had
an apple in his pocket. He handed it to the captain. `There, captain,'
said he, `what is sent to one is sent to all. Serve it out, if you
please, among us: if any one has a quid in his pouch, or a bit of
biscuit, let him do the same!' We all felt in our pockets, but could
find nothing to eat; so the captain took the apple, and, cutting it into
seven bits, each took one, and munched away at it as long as it would
stay in our mouths. All the time we were looking out anxiously for a
sail, but nothing could we see but the dark, tumbling, foaming breakers
around us. Not even the rock where our companions had got could we see.
Noon passed, hour after hour crept by after it, the horrors of another
night threatened us, and we began to give way to despair. Some of us
talked of giving up, and dropping into the sea. The captain rebuked the
grumblers sternly. `You heard what the engineer said, my lads: "God
intends to save our lives," and I feel now he was right.' Scarcely had
he spoken when the engineer shouted out, `A sail! A sail!' We all
looked out eagerly. There was a fishing-boat standing towards us. In
half an hour she had hove-to to leeward of the wreck. Her brave crew
lowered their sail and pulled in towards us: but they could not venture
very near, and it was no easy matter to get on board. All we could do
was to wait till the seas washed over us, and then one by one we plunged
in; and they carried us clear of the rocks, which would otherwise have
knocked us to pieces. Thus we all got on board the little craft, and
were carried safely on shore. The same fishing-boat had before taken
off our companions from the rock, and they had then sent her to our
assistance.
"Now you will like to know how the accident happened without any blame
to the captain, or any one on board? The truth was that we had, as part
of the cargo, a quantity of iron. This had set all our compasses wrong,
making us twenty or thirty miles out of our course at least. I've often
since thought, Mr Fairman, if we hadn't a true compass to steer by like
the Bible, which of us would escape the rocks which lie in our course in
life; and it's my opinion that those who do steer by it never get far
wrong."
The young travellers thanked old Tom very much for his interesting
narrative, and Cousin Giles spun a long yarn with him afterwards about
old times. Cousin Giles had also a talk with each of the crew, and gave
them some books and tracts, for which they were very thankful.
All Friday night the lead was kept going, for the master judged that
they ought to have been in the very centre of the Skaggerack passage,
which is very deep; but it told him that the ship was still in shallow
water. The very same circumstance which caused the loss of the
_Victoria_ had happened to them. Their compasses, attracted by some of
the iron in the ship, were not pointing truly. They had reason to be
thankful that the error was discovered in time, or they might have
suffered the same disasters they had lately heard described. When the
fog cleared away, they found that they were off the coast of Jutland,
twenty miles south of where they should have been. In the afternoon
they sighted the Scaw lighthouse, built on a sandy point, with sand
hills, and a ruined church on them--no very interesting object, except
as being the first part they saw of Denmark.
Sunday morning, at five o'clock, the steward called to them to say that
they were close to Elsinore. They hurried on deck, and found that they
were passing that far-famed castle, where the ghost of Hamlet's father
was wont to walk and tell its tale of horrors to any one it might chance
to meet and had time to stop and listen to it. Seen in the bright glow
of the morning sun, the castle had a pleasing, cheerful aspect, with
nothing of the dark, gloomy, hobgoblin style of architecture about it,
such as Mrs Radcliffe delighted to describe. It stands on a narrow
neck of land a little to the north of the town, and is of a quadrangular
form, with three Moorish-looking towers and a square one of modern style
at the four corners. It is surrounded by a fosse and low ramparts, of a
modern style of fortification. The royal family of Denmark came
occasionally to the castle to enjoy sea-bathing for a few days. The
Sound is here very narrow, the shore of Sweden being not more than three
or foul miles off. It was crowded with shipping, the place serving as a
roadstead for Copenhagen, which is about twenty miles distant. In the
forenoon they came off Copenhagen, but did not touch there. The nearest
point to them was the Trekroner, or Three-crown Battery, as an
artificially-formed island directly in front of the city is called.
This is the point which, in the attack under Nelson, gave the British so
much trouble, and cost so many lives. Beyond it, within a mole, were
seen the masts of some shipping, and behind them arose towers and spires
and public edifices, and trees, and houses of various shapes, springing,
as it seemed, out of the water.
Cousin Giles gave the lads a description of the battle of Copenhagen,
which was fought on the 2nd of April 1801. The destruction of the
Danish fleet was a sad necessity. The attack was made on our old allies
and natural friends, to prevent their fleet from falling into the power
of Napoleon, who would have employed it against us. The Danes have not
yet forgotten that untoward event.
For most of the day they steamed on with the shores both of Sweden and
Denmark in sight. The usual morning work of the ship having been got
through, Cousin Giles asked the captain if he ever had service on board.
"When we have a clergyman," was the answer.
"How often is that?"
"Once I took one over; but, to be sure, he was sick, and had to cut it
short."
"Then, how often are you in port on a Sunday?"
"Not often in England, and sometimes in foreign parts we are so pressed
for time that we are obliged to be discharging or taking in cargo on a
Sunday."
"I am sorry to hear that. Sailing-vessels used seldom to be so pressed.
But why do not you hold service for your people at sea, at all events?"
said Cousin Giles.
"I!--how should such an one as I hold service?" replied the master
simply. "The men are accustomed to hear me swear at them and abuse
them. They would laugh if I proposed to pray with them."
"Leave off swearing, and take to praying, then, my friend," said Cousin
Giles solemnly. "Ask yourself which is the best of the two."
"I am afraid I should make but a bad hand at the prayers," said the
master carelessly.
"Try," answered Cousin Giles earnestly. "But, my friend, if you will
give me leave, I will hold a service on the sacred day of rest, and
perhaps some of the passengers may join us."
"The passengers may, but I don't think you'll get many of my fellows to
attend your service," was the reply.
"I will try, at all events, if I have your permission," said Cousin
Giles.
"Oh, certainly, certainly," replied the master in a somewhat
supercilious tone; but he was not a little puzzled to make out what sort
of man Cousin Giles could be.
Cousin Giles on this went forward, and spoke to each of the men
separately, in his own peculiar, kind way, and told them that he was
anxious to thank his Maker and theirs for all the mercies they had so
often received, and invited them to join him in that act of devotion in
about an hour's time.
They all not only willingly but gladly assented to his proposal, and
promised to go aft when they were summoned. Although the master had not
discovered that Cousin Giles was a seaman, they had, and knew him to be
a true man. He then returned aft, and spoke to the passengers in the
same strain, and but very few refused to join the service. Two said
they would think about it; one had an interesting book to finish; and
another asked him if he was a parson, and said he only attended services
held by properly ordained ministers.
At the appointed hour, to the surprise of the master, every seaman,
engineer, and stoker who was not on duty came up to the wide deck over
the engine, and most of the passengers assembled there likewise. Never
was there a more attentive congregation. Cousin Giles read part of the
Church of England Liturgy, and then spoke to them from the fifteenth
chapter of Saint John's Gospel: "I am the true vine." Those who heard
him said that he explained the subject well, and that what he said went
to their hearts. The reason of this was, that he was deeply in earnest,
and anxious about the souls of his hearers. The master began even to
think that he was a parson in disguise.
The steamer passed several islands, and on Monday was running up the
Baltic in a perfect calm, the hot sun striking down on her decks, with
its shining brightness dazzling the eyes of the passengers, the numerous
vessels they passed having their canvas hanging idly down against their
masts.
On Tuesday morning they were at the entrance of the Gulf of Finland, and
in the evening they were passing the island of Nargen, with the town of
Revel, just rising out of the water, seen through their glasses beyond
it on the starboard hand.
The morning of Wednesday broke cold and grey, but in the forenoon the
sun burst forth and shone brightly; and the sea was rippled over by a
westerly breeze, which increased every hour in strength, and carried
before it numberless vessels of all nations and rigs, though the
galliots of Holland undoubtedly predominated. About noon, in this
numerous company, they passed the lighthouse on the island of Tolbuken,
which was held by the English during the late war, and whence the
British officers with their glasses could discover all that was going on
behind the batteries of Cronstadt. At about half-past one, a gun fired
across the bows of the steamer by the Russian guardship hinted to her
that she must heave-to; which being done, some officers came on board to
examine her papers and the passengers' passports, to drink the master's
wine, or spirits, or bottled ale, and carry away any gunpowder or
fireworks which might be on board. Ahead lay a large Russian fleet of
line-of-battle ships, frigates, steamers, brigs, and schooners, now at
length able to show their noses out of port; while a little way beyond
rose those formidable batteries which had so lately, by their very
appearance, been able to damp the ardour of some of England's naval
chieftains. On the left side was the island of Cronstadt, with its
fortifications, its town with its spires and domes, and its harbour,
capable of sheltering a large man-of-war fleet; and on the right,
opposite to it, were two circular batteries, which looked like huge
white factories rising out of the water; only instead of windows, there
were ports, while enormous guns in lieu of rainspouts crowned their
summits, without even a parapet to hide their carriages. On the
southern part of the chief island was a similar tower.
Most of the passengers had some favourite plan of their own for taking
the fortress,--especially some commercial travellers, who were loud in
their expressions of scorn at the want of success of Napier and Dundas,
and the sad degeneracy of the British navy. Cousin Giles was much
amused, and advised them to lay their plans before the English
Government, and to offer their services as commanders-in-chief of her
fleets and armies.
As the vessels steamed on, the travellers had on their left side the
rocky and wood-covered heights of Finland, between which and the island
of Cronstadt there is a narrow but tolerably deep passage. Through this
passage, which was unknown to the Russians themselves, the English
admiral proposed to send up a fleet of gun-boats and small steamers had
the attack on the fortress been resolved on. On the right hand from
this entrance into the Gulf of Finland they had had the province of
Esthonia. They now had that of Saint Petersburg, the shores of which
appeared high and well wooded. They by this time had reached what may
be considered nearly the end of the Gulf of Finland; for, although above
Cronstadt there is still a fine expanse of water, it is generally very
shallow, there being only a narrow and intricate channel, worked by the
strong current of the Neva.
Among the various craft they passed, they were much amused by the little
Finnish schooners, which went careering on before the breeze, laden
chiefly with firewood, or some other not very valuable cargo, for the
Saint Petersburg markets. They were built of fir, with very little
paint, very few ropes, and had very white canvas. Altogether they had,
as Cousin Giles observed, an exceedingly fresh-water look about them.
The Finns who manned them were, however, hardy fellows, and formed by
far the best seamen on board the Russian men-of-war. The Russians are
not good salt-water sailors; they have no taste for the sea, and are not
likely to obtain it. Peter the Great tried to form a navy. He
succeeded in building ships, but it was quite a different thing when he
tried to find seamen to man them. A gentleman on board told the lads a
story, and they much wished to know if he could vouch for its truth.
The late Emperor Nicholas on some occasion wanted to send a
line-of-battle ship in a hurry to sea. No men were to be found. The
Emperor was indignant that anything should oppose his imperial will. He
stormed and raged; but even to appease his wrath no men could be made to
rise out of the earth. At last his eyes fell on a regiment of dragoons
who were defiling slowly by.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, as a bright thought struck him, "why should not
those tall fellows make good seamen?" He called the colonel to him.
"Colonel," said he; "order your men to dismount, and do you and your
officers lead them on board that ship, and get her under weigh
immediately. There is no time to be lost. You'll have something to
learn, probably; but that does not matter--it is my will--do it."
The poor colonel knew that there was no use expostulating. The men were
ordered aloft--cocked hats, jack-boots, and spurs. Up they went, the
upper ones with their dreadful spurs catching those following by eyes,
or noses, or mouths; and the surprising thing was that any got up at
all. There is, however, nothing that a Russian cannot do, in a way,
when put to it. The topsails were at length loosed, the anchor was got
up, and the ship was actually under weigh; but where she went to, or if
she ever went anywhere at all, their friend could not exactly say.
All this time the steamer was passing among the Russian men-of-war.
Some of them were huge, towering line-of-battle ships, and all of them,
outwardly at least, were in prime order. At length the steamer ran in
past a high white tower between two piers, the screw stopped, she was
hauled alongside a wharf, and the voyage was ended. Instantly she was
filled with men in grey and blue uniforms. They were custom-house
officers, who came professedly to prevent smuggling, but in reality to
collect any fees they could pick up.
The travellers now heard for the first time the incomprehensible sounds
of the Russian language, while their eyes were amused with the various
and strange costumes of the wild-looking shouting people who surrounded
them. Some of the officers had shaven chins, but most of the people had
long beards, and straggling hair flowing from beneath their caps; but,
unattractive as were their countenances generally, they wore an aspect
of good-nature and simplicity which made amends for their ugliness.
In a short time a little steamer came alongside the _Ladoga_, into which
the passengers and their luggage were transferred, to be conveyed up to
Saint Petersburg under charge of a party of the militarily-equipped
custom-house officers. The little satellite shoved off from the side of
the big steamer, the master stood on the taffrail with his hat in his
hand, the passengers waved theirs; and thus they bade farewell, most of
them for ever, to the ill-fated _Ladoga_. After leaving the mole, they
passed along the wharves of the Imperial Dockyard, within which were
collected a great number of line-of-battle ships and frigates laid up in
ordinary, which, as Fred said, looked like idle sulky fellows shut up in
a poor-house with nothing to do.
"Very fine ships," said Cousin Giles; "but without the men to handle
them, in spite of their long guns, they are like dogs with broken legs:
they may bark and howl, and gnash their teeth, but they can do no
further harm. We should not despise Russia, but we need not be
frightened at her."
Their helmsman, who stood with the tiller between his legs, with his
hands crossed and hid in his "Bosom," was a picture in himself. A low
cap covered a head of shaggy reddish hair, while his thick straggly
beard was of the same hue. His upper man was clothed in a coarse white
jersey, beneath which appeared the tail of a red-striped shirt, while
his widish green cloth trousers were tucked in high leather black boots.
He was a fine big fellow, and had a seaman's air about him, so that he
might have served as a model of a Scandinavian rover ten centuries ago.
There were a number of other, to the young travellers, strange-looking
figures, helmeted, long-cloaked, thick-bearded and moustached beings,
who, with piles of luggage, crowded the decks; and in this numerous
company away they hurried towards the modern capital of the Czars.