On Saturday, the 24th of November, 1804, the fleet under the command
of Admiral the Hon. W. Cornwallis, lay at anchor in Torbay. As it was
late in the year, and the night dark and stormy, orders were given for
the fleet to put to sea.
Unfortunately, in fishing the anchor of the Venerable, 74-gun ship,
the fish-hook gave way, and a man was precipitated into the sea. The
alarm was immediately given, and one of the cutters was ordered to be
lowered. Numbers of the crew rushed aft to carry the orders into
effect, but in the confusion, one of the falls was suddenly let go,
the boat fell by the run, filled, and a midshipman and two of the crew
were drowned. In a few minutes another boat was lowered, which
fortunately succeeded in picking up the man who first fell overboard.
Owing to this delay, the Venerable fell off considerably towards
Brixham, and getting sternway, was unable to weather the Berry Head.
Every effort was made to stay her, but the ship refused; and, not
having room to wear, she drove on shore, at the north part of the bay,
on a spot called Roundem Head, near Paington.
Orders were given to cut away the masts, in the hopes of their falling
between the ship and the shore. This was found impracticable, as the
ship, from her position on the declivity of the rock on which she
struck, heeled to such an extent, as to render the falling of the
masts in the desired direction quite impossible.
Her commander, Captain John Hunter, however, with undaunted fortitude,
continued to animate the crew with hope, and encouraged them to acts
of further perseverance, with the same calmness and self-possession as
if he were simply conducting the ordinary duties of his ship. From
the moment the ship struck, not the least alteration took place in his
looks, words, or manner; and everything that the most able and
experienced seaman could suggest was done, but in vain. On signals of
distress being made, H.M. cutter Frisk, Lieutenant Nicholson,
immediately stood towards her, and hailing to know in what manner she
could be useful, was requested to anchor as near as possible to
receive the crew, with which her commander immediately complied,
assisted by the boats of the Goliath and Impetueux.
All hope of saving the Venerable being now abandoned, the only object
that remained was to preserve the lives of the crew, who were told to
provide for their own safety on board the boats which had been sent to
their assistance, the captain and officers declaring their intention
of remaining on board till all the men had quitted the wreck.
At this time the sea ran tremendously high, and the men lowered
themselves into the boats from the stern, this being the only
accessible part of the ship. Most anxious was the situation of the
officers and men who were left, during the absence of the boats. Many
gave up all hopes of rescue, for every time the boats approached the
ship, the attempt became more and more dangerous. The night still
continued dark and foggy, with driving sleet and violent gusts of
wind, which seemed to freshen every hour. In this forlorn and dismal
state, the officers continued on the outside of the ship (for she was
nearly on her beam ends), encouraging the men, and affording every
assistance for their escape on board the boats.
The Venerable was now a complete wreck, beating against the rocks, and
was expected to go to pieces at every surge; yet all this time was
she so near the shore that those on board were able to converse with
the people, whom the report of the guns had brought in great numbers
to the rocks. With much difficulty, they at last contrived to fling a
line on shore, which, being secured there, some of the crew attempted
to land themselves by it. The surf, however, broke with such violence
between them and the shore, although they were scarcely twenty yards
distant, that the poor fellows who made the attempt were either
drowned or dashed to pieces.
It was now past five o'clock on Sunday morning, the weather still
growing worse. The crew, with the exception of seventeen, had
succeeded in quitting the ship, and these nobly declared that they
would remain to share the fate of their officers. The situation of the
whole was indeed appalling, and sufficient to quail the boldest heart;
the sea breaking over them, the fore part of the ship under water, and
the rest expected momentarily to go to pieces. Under these
circumstances, the officers, feeling that they could be of no further
use on board, deemed it their duty to represent to the captain the
necessity of endeavouring to save their lives, they having one and all
resolved on sharing his fate.
This point being arranged, the hopes of life began to revive; but a
further difficulty presented itself, which seemed to render their
safety more problematical than ever. This was, who was to lead the
way. The pause had well nigh been fatal to them all. At length a
junior lieutenant, long known on board, and celebrated for his
courage, agreed to lead the way, the rest solemnly promising to
follow. One after another they descended from the stern by a single
rope, wet, cold, and benumbed; and in this condition they gained the
boats, which were in perilous attendance below. About six o'clock
they reached the Impetueux, where they were treated with every
attention and kindness which their unfortunate position so loudly
called for. They quitted the ship in a most critical time, for in a
little more than an hour after they had left her, she parted
amidships--that part on which they had been standing for the last five
or six hours capsized and was buried in the surf. In sixteen hours
from the time she first struck, the whole vessel had disappeared,
under the action of a raging surf, lashed into fury by the violence of
the gale.
The conduct of the people on shore was most inhuman; not the slightest
assistance was offered; not a single boat from Brixham or Torquay
having put out to their assistance during the whole of this dreadful
night. To add to this disgraceful conduct, the cowardly wretches were
observed, when daylight broke, plundering everything of value as it
floated ashore.
The following is the tribute of praise which Captain Hunter so justly
pays to Captain Martin and the officers and crew of the Impetueux:--
"To Captain Martin, of the Impetueux, whose feelings as a man,
as well as his zeal as an officer, were on this distressing
occasion so conspicuous.--It is the desire of the officers and
crew of the Venerable in this place to express the high sense
they have of the obligations they are under to his personal
exertions, as well as those of the officers and boats' crews
whom he employed in this difficult and dangerous service,--for
it is to their exertions they owe the life they now enjoy."
Captain Hunter also speaks of the conduct of his own ship's company in
the highest terms. Their steadiness throughout was most remarkable,
and to this, in a great measure, may be attributed the preservation of
their own lives.
One solitary instance of neglect of duty occurred; and when we
consider the circumstances in which the men were placed, and the
temptations which never fail to present themselves on such occasions,
the highest praise is not only due to the crew, but also to the
captain and officers, who, by their previous conduct, had gained the
respect and confidence of those under them. It is in such moments of
severe trial that the character of a ship's company is put to the
test; and the good behaviour of the men who remained with their
officers proves that, in order to maintain a proper degree of
discipline, no undue severity need be practised.
To a comparatively recent period, the captain of a man-of-war had the
power of inflicting corporal punishment to an unlimited extent. This
practice has of late years much diminished; owing, in a great measure,
to the increased good feeling of naval officers, as also to the
Admiralty discountenancing such strong measures, unless in most urgent
cases. A captain of a man-of-war has, notwithstanding, and very
properly so, an almost absolute power, and corporal punishment rests
with him alone; but the humane officer, like Captain Hunter, punishes
one man to save many others, and shares with the delinquent the pain
which, for the sake of example, he is obliged to inflict. The
discipline of a ship of course depends almost entirely upon the
conduct of the captain; to him the officers look for guidance and
example; and whilst they see that the men do their duty properly, they
also learn from him to treat them with due consideration, having their
happiness and comfort in view. As in the case of the Venerable, when
the hour of danger arrives, each cheerfully performs the duties
allotted to him, relying with confidence on those who, from their
clemency, combined with firmness, they have been accustomed to look up
to with respect.
An additional interest belongs to the fate of this vessel, when we
bear in mind that her crew, whilst serving under Lord Duncan, in 1797,
remained untainted during the celebrated mutiny at the Nore.[8] She
also bore a conspicuous part in Lord Duncan's action with the Dutch
fleet, in October of the same year, engaging the Vryheid, the
flag-ship of the Dutch admiral.
The account of this great battle, however, is too well recorded in the
page of history to need repetition. It is sufficient to add, that the
Vryheid, after a noble resistance, was ultimately obliged to strike,
under the destructive fire of the Venerable, Triumph, Ardent, and
Director.