In the afternoon of the 7th of January, 1805, His Majesty's ship
Sheerness, of 44 guns, was lying at anchor in the Colombo Roads,
Ceylon.
It was one of those days of extreme stillness which often precede the
frightful hurricanes that sweep the eastern seas. Not a breath of air
stirred, not a cloud was to be seen; the ship lay motionless on the
calm and glassy water. The ensign drooped in heavy folds from the
stern, and many of the crew lay stretched on the decks in listless
apathy, little anticipating the terrible convulsion of the elements
which was so soon to arouse them in fear. The monotony on board was
broken for a moment by the voice of the captain, Lord George Stuart,
who ordered his gig to be manned that he might go on shore with his
first lieutenant, Mr. Swan, and some other officers, whom he had
invited to dine with him under a tent. The bustle of their departure
from the ship was soon over, and again all was still. The captain and
officers had scarcely landed and seated themselves at table, when a
roaring sound was heard, at first distant, but becoming louder and
louder every moment, and before they could conjecture the cause, the
canvass of the tent was almost torn from its fastenings by the sudden
violence of the wind.
Every one thought first of the Sheerness, and rushing from the tent a
scene presented itself to their gaze little calculated to diminish
their alarm for the ship.
The sea, which a few minutes before had been smooth as a polished
mirror, now displayed a picture of terrific grandeur; the waves,
crested with foam, rolled and tossed over one another in wild
confusion, whilst the roaring of the winds, and the torrents of rain,
added to the awful sublimity of the scene. Lord George, though aware
of the imminent danger to which he exposed himself, determined at all
risks to get on board his ship. Without a moment's delay he collected
the crew of the gig, and pushed from the shore towards the
vessel--himself steering the boat, whilst Lieutenant Swan pulled the
bow oar. The wind had now increased to such a hurricane as is only
known in tropical climates, and the waves threatened every instant to
engulf the frail bark. As they advanced, the danger became more and
more urgent; the sea broke over them continually; nevertheless, they
persevered, and strained every nerve to effect their object.
The stunning roar of the hurricane prevented any communication except
by signs, and several times the wind caught the oars with such force
that the men could scarcely retain their seats. In vain were all
their efforts:--
The winds arise,
The thunder rolls, the forky lightning flies;
In vain the master issues out commands,
In vain the trembling sailors ply their hands,
The tempest, unforeseen, prevents their care,
And from the first they labour in despair.
Dryden.
The boat filled with water three times, and became so nearly
unmanageable, that they saw it would be impossible to gain the ship,
and they bore up to the west part of York Island, from whence they
waded to the shore, but so exhausted from the fatigue they had
undergone, that they could never have reached the land, had they not
been assisted by some workmen who were on the spot.
When they arrived, they found Mr. Warner, a midshipman, had just
landed from the Sheerness, with a message to the effect that the ship
had parted an anchor, but that she was riding in safety with two
others. Mr. Warner had been sent in the launch, but in nearing the
shore, she had been upset, and two of her crew were drowned; there was
little hope, therefore, of any boat weathering the storm in an attempt
to reach the ship.
Lord George, however, would not give up the attempt, and he expressed
so much anxiety to join his vessel, that it was proposed to go to the
weathermost part of the bay. Thither they accordingly struggled on
foot, with the utmost difficulty making head against the wind, and
suffering acutely from the sand driving into their eyes. In addition
to their personal sufferings, the spectacle around was one of such
desolation and horror as no man can witness without pain. The shore,
as far as the eye could reach, was covered with wrecks, and with the
bodies of the dying and the dead, while the roaring of the surf, and
the howling of the tempest, mingled with the piercing cries of those
on board the stranded vessels, who were yet struggling with their
fate, added to the awfulness of the scene.
At half-past six in the evening, exhausted with fatigue and suffering,
they arrived at the head of the bay; but here they were again doomed
to disappointment, for they found no one to assist them in launching
the boat, although the crew of the launch had been directed to join
them for that purpose.
The ship was still in sight, but they found it would be impossible to
reach her, and they therefore proceeded to the neighbouring town of
Ostenberg, where they directed a soldier whom they met, to hasten to
his commanding officer, and request that a party of soldiers with
torches should be ordered out ready to save the crew of the Sheerness,
in case of her driving on shore.
Lord George and his companions then went to the master attendant's
house, where they passed the night; but although they were worn out in
mind and body, sleep never closed their eyes that night--they passed
it in listening to the reports of the signal guns from the Sheerness,
and in watching the rockets which from time to time illuminated the
darkness, telling of distress and danger which they could not
alleviate.
When morning broke, they assembled all the workmen they could muster,
and manning a cutter with the crew of the launch, they went off to the
Sheerness, which had been driven on shore to the west of York Island.
There a most distressing sight presented itself; two vessels had been
driven on shore, one of which was totally lost. The Sheerness had
parted her cables during the night, and for a time her situation was
exceedingly perilous, it was impossible to stand upon deck till the
main and mizen masts had been cut away. The water rose above the
orlop deck till it became level with the surface of the sea.
Not a barrack-house or tree escaped the ravages of the storm; many
were levelled with the ground, others extensively damaged, and the
hospital was completely unroofed, which rendered the situation of the
sick most deplorable. One of the patients was killed by the falling
beams. Several Europeans fell a sacrifice to the storm, many of them
being exposed to the torrents of rain without any place of shelter
within reach.
Lord George Stuart, the officers and crew of the Sheerness were
acquitted of all blame respecting the loss of that vessel, it being
the opinion of the court, that 'Every exertion was made for the
preservation of the ship by the captain, officers, and crew upon that
trying occasion; and that, owing to the violence of the hurricane, the
loss of the ship was inevitable; and every subsequent attempt to get
her afloat proved ineffectual, in consequence of the damage she had
sustained in grounding when driven on shore, from the impossibility of
keeping her free by means of the pumps.'
Lord George Stuart entered the navy in the year 1793 as a midshipman
on board the Providence, in which ship he had the misfortune to be
wrecked in the year 1797.
He received his post rank in 1804, and was almost constantly employed
from that time until 1809, when he assumed the command of a light
squadron at the mouth of the Elbe.
Here he performed an important service in taking the town of
Gessendorf, situated on the banks of the Weser, and in driving from
the fortress a body of French troops who had made frequent predatory
and piratical excursions in the neighbourhood of Cuxhaven.
A few days after the defeat of the French, the gallant Duke of
Brunswick also arrived on the opposite banks of the Weser, after
having almost succeeded in effecting his retreat through the heart of
Germany. By the previous dispersion of the enemy and the destruction
of the fortress, he succeeded in crossing the river and escaping his
pursuers, who would otherwise, in all probability, have captured or
destroyed the whole of his detachment.
His Lordship was next appointed to the Horatio, a 38-gun frigate.
Whilst cruizing on the morning of the 7th December, 1813, off the
Island of Zealand, he received a letter from a gentleman who had been
in the British service, requesting his aid to drive the French from
Zierick-Zee, the capital of Schowen. He at once complied with this
request, and directed a detachment of seamen and marines to storm the
batteries as soon as the tide would answer for the boats to leave the
ship, which could not be done until nine P.M. In the meantime, a
deputation arrived on board from the principal citizens, bearing a
flag of truce from the French general, and requesting, that in order
to save the effusion of blood, and to prevent the disorders which
would in all probability arise, as the city was then in a state of
insurrection, terms of capitulation should be granted, by which the
French should be allowed to withdraw with their baggage to
Bergen-op-Zoom. To this, Lord George Stuart gave a peremptory refusal,
and summoned the French to surrender unconditionally. After a short
delay, the signal of surrender was made, and thus, by the promptitude
and decision displayed by the British officer, the French were
compelled to evacuate the Island of Schowen without bloodshed, and the
ancient magistrates of Zierick-Zee resumed their former functions.
Lord George Stuart subsequently commanded the Newcastle, and was
employed in the last American war. In 1815, he received the Order of
the Companion of the Bath, and died as rear-admiral in 1841.