ONLY a few weeks after the loss of the Athenienne, and of so many of
her crew, a shipwreck occurred in another part of the Mediterranean,
attended by circumstances of most painful interest.
His Majesty's sloop, Nautilus, commanded by Captain Palmer, left the
squadron of Sir Thomas Louis in the Hellespont, on the morning of the:
3rd of January, 1807, bearing dispatches of the utmost importance for
England.
The wind blowing fresh from the north-east, the sloop continued her
course through the Archipelago without danger or mischance, until the
evening of the 4th, when she was off Anti Milo; the pilot then gave up
his charge, professing himself ignorant of the coast they were now
approaching. As the dispatches confided to Captain Palmer were of
great moment, he determined to run every hazard rather than retard
their delivery. He therefore sailed from Anti Milo at sunset, and
shaped his course to Cerigotto. At midnight, the wind had risen to a
gale; the night was dark and gloomy; torrents of rain were falling,
accompanied by loud and incessant peals of thunder, whilst vivid
flashes of lightning ever and anon illuminated for an instant the
murky sky, and left all in obscurity more dismal than before.
At two o'clock A.M., the tempest and the darkness having increased,
the captain gave orders to close-reef topsails, and prepare for
bringing-to until daybreak. A little after three o'clock, a bright
flash of lightning discovered to them, the Island of Cerigotto right
ahead, and about a mile distant. The captain considered his course to
be now clear, and therefore directed all possible sail to be kept on
the vessel without endangering the masts, at the same time he
congratulated Lieutenant Nesbitt upon their escape from the threatened
dangers of the Archipelago.
He then went below, and was engaged with the pilot in examining the
chart, when a cry was heard of 'Breakers ahead!' Lieutenant Nesbitt,
who was on deck, ordered the helm a-lee; it was scarcely done, when
the vessel struck. The shock was so violent, that the men below were
thrown out of their hammocks, and they had difficulty in getting upon
deck, for every sea lifted up the ship and then again dashed her upon
the rocks with such force that they could not keep their feet. All was
confusion and alarm. Every one felt his own utter helplessness.
'Oh! my Lord,' writes Lieutenant Nesbitt to Lord Collingwood, 'it
draws tears from my eyes when I reflect on the complicated miseries of
the scene! Heaven, now our only resource, was piteously invoked; and
happy am I to say, our gallant crew left nothing untried which we
imagined could save us--all cheerfully obeying the orders of the
officers. An instant had hardly elapsed ere our main-deck was burst
in, and a few minutes after the lee bulwark was entirely overwhelmed.
A heavy sea broke entirely over us, and none could see the smallest
aperture through which hope might enter, and enliven the chill and
dreary prospect before us.'
The only chance of escape for the crew was by the boats, and one only,
a small whale-boat, got clear of the ship in safety, the others were
all either stove or washed off the booms and dashed to pieces on the
rocks by the raging surf. The boat that escaped was manned by the
coxswain, George Smith, and nine others. When they got clear of the
wreck, they lay on their oars, and those who had clothing shared it
with others who were nearly naked. They then pulled towards the Island
of Pauri, seeing that it was impossible for them to render any
assistance to their wretched comrades, as the boat already carried as
many as she could possibly stow.
After the departure of the whale-boat, the ship continued to strike
every two or three minutes, but as she was thrown higher on the rock,
the men perceived that a part of it was above water; and as they
expected the vessel to go to pieces at every shock, that lonely rock
offered a safer refuge from the waves than the frail timbers to which
they were clinging. The mercy of Providence soon provided them with
the means of exchanging their perilous situation for one of less
certain and instant danger. The mainmast fell over the side about
twenty minutes after the vessel struck, and the mizen and foremasts
followed. These all served as gangways by which the people passed
through the surf from the wreck to the platform of the coral reef, and
thus for the time were rescued from the certain death that awaited
them if they remained on board.
The rock, which they reached with difficulty, was scarcely above
water; it was between three and four hundred yards long, and two
hundred wide; and upon this spot, in the midst of the deep, nearly a
hundred men were thrown together, without food, almost without
clothing, and with very little hope that they should ever escape from
the perils that surrounded them. They had only left the wreck in time
to hear her dashed to pieces against the rocks; her timbers quivering,
rending, and groaning, as they were riven asunder by the remorseless
waves. When day dawned upon the cheerless group, its light only
revealed new horrors: the sea on all sides was strewed with fragments
of the wreck; not a sail was visible on the waters, and many of their
comrades were seen clinging to spars and planks, tossed hither and
thither by the waves. The situation of the survivors was truly
distressing; they were at least twelve miles from the nearest island,
and their only chance of relief was in the possibility of a ship
passing near enough to see the signal which they hoisted on a long
pole fixed to the rocks.
The day was bitterly cold, and with much difficulty the unfortunate
men contrived to kindle a fire, by means of a knife and flint that
were happily in the pocket of one of the sailors, and a small barrel
of damp powder that had been washed on to the rock. They next
constructed a tent with pieces of canvas, boards, and parts of the
wreck, and so they were enabled to dry the few clothes they had upon
them. And now they had to pass a long and dreary night, exposed to
hunger, cold, and wet; but they kept the fire burning, hoping that it
might be visible in the darkness, and be taken for a signal of
distress. And so it proved; for the coxswain and crew of the whale
boat, who were on the Island of Pauri, observed the fire in the middle
of the night, and the next morning the coxswain and pilot, with four
of the men, pulled to the rocks, in hopes that some of their comrades
might be still living.
They were beyond measure astonished to find so many survivors from the
wreck, when they had scarcely dared to hope that any could have been
saved except themselves. They had no food or water in their boat; for
they had found nothing on the Island of Pauri (which was only a mile
in circumference) but a few sheep and goats, kept there by the
inhabitants of Cerigo, and a little rain-water that was preserved in
a hole of the rock. The coxswain attempted to persuade Captain Palmer
to come into the boat, but the intrepid officer refused. 'Never mind
me,' was his noble reply; 'save your unfortunate shipmates.'
After some consultation, the Captain ordered the coxswain to take ten
of the people from the rock and make the best of his way to Cerigotto,
and return as soon as possible with assistance.
Soon after the departure of the boat, the wind increased to a gale,
the waves dashed over the rock and extinguished the fire, and some of
the men were compelled to cling to the highest part of the rock, and
others to hold on by a rope fastened round a projecting point, in
order to save themselves from being washed away by the surf; and thus
a second night was passed, even more wretched than the first. Many of
the people became delirious from the fatigue, hunger, thirst, and
cold, which they had suffered, and several died during the night;
some, apparently, from the effect of the intense cold upon their
exhausted frames. Terrible was the scene which daylight presented:
indiscriminately crowded together on a small spot, were the living,
the dying, and the dead; and the wretched survivors unable to give any
help to those whose sufferings might shortly be their own.
There was nothing to be done, but to wait in hope for the return of
the whale-boat, when, to the indescribable joy of all, a ship, with
all sail set, hove in sight: she was coming down before the wind, and
steering directly for the rock.
This cheering sight infused vigour into the weakest and most
desponding. Signals of distress were instantly made, and at last they
were perceived by the vessel, which brought to, and then hoisted out
her boat. Great was the joy of all the famishing creatures on the
rock, to see their deliverance at hand; the strongest began to fasten
spars and planks together to form rafts, on which they might get to
the ship; the boat came within pistol-shot. She was full of men, who
rested on their oars for a few minutes, as if to examine the persons
whom they were approaching: the man at the helm waved his hat, and
then the boat's head was put round and they pulled back again to the
ship, and left the crew of the Nautilus to their fate.
The transition from hope to despair was terrible,--all that day they
watched in vain for the return of their own boat from Cerigotto; but
hour after hour passed away, and they began, at length, to fear that
she had been lost in the gale of the preceding night.
Death, in its most horrible forms, now stared them in the face; the
pangs of hunger and thirst were almost insupportable. There was--
Water, water everywhere,
Yet not a drop to drink.--COLERIDGE.
Some, indeed, of the poor sufferers were desperate enough to allay
their raging thirst with salt water, in spite of the entreaties and
warnings of those who knew how terrible are its effects. In a few
hours those who had drunk it were seized with violent hysteria and
raving madness, which in many ended in death.
Another night drew on, and they made their sad preparations for it by
huddling together as closely as they could, to keep alive the little
warmth that remained in their bodies, and covering themselves with the
few ragged garments that were left. Happily the weather was more
moderate, and they hoped to be able to get through the night; but worn
out as they were, the ravings of some of their companions banished
sleep from the eyes of the rest. In the middle of the night they were
unexpectedly hailed by the crew of the whale-boat.
The first cry from the rock was--'water! water!' but water they had
none. They had found it impossible to procure anything but earthen
vessels, and these could not be carried through the surf. The
coxswain, however, informed them that next morning a large vessel
would come to their relief; and in this hope of a speedy deliverance
they were encouraged to further endurance. The morning broke at last,
but no boat appeared; then came a reaction, and the heart-sickness of
hope deferred. The scenes that occurred on that day were too dreadful
to relate--it was the fourth on which they had not tasted food.
......Savagely
They glared upon each other;
.............
.... and you might have seen
The longings of the cannibal arise
(Although they spoke not) in their wolfish eyes.--BYRON.
They must now either taste human flesh or perish--there was no
alternative.
A young man who had died the previous night was selected to be food
for the rest.[9] Most of them had not power to masticate or to
swallow--
For every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root.
COLERIDGE (_Ancient Mariner_).
Before evening death had made fearful ravages, and had numbered
amongst its victims Captain Palmer and the first lieutenant.
Another night came on; long and anxiously had they gazed upon the
horizon--in vain had they strained their blood-shot eyes to see some
vessel coming to their relief. The shades of night closed round them,
and sadly they awaited the dawn of another day, resolving that if they
lived to see it they would construct a raft and commit themselves to
the waves, rather than remain to die of hunger and thirst.
Accordingly, at daylight they began to put their plan into execution
by fastening some of the larger spars together, and in a few hours the
raft was completed. The eventful moment for launching it arrived, when
with bitter grief and disappointment they beheld the work of their
hands, which it had cost them so much labour to achieve, dashed to
pieces in a few seconds and scattered adrift upon the waves. Some of
the men, rendered desperate by seeing their last chance of escape thus
snatched from them, rushed into the sea, grasping at such parts of the
wreck as came within their reach; but they were all swept away by the
current, and their unhappy comrades saw them no more.
In the afternoon, the coxswain arrived in the whale-boat, but he came
without bringing them any food or means of escape--for all his
entreaties had been unavailing to persuade the Greek fishermen to put
to sea whilst the gale continued. They had, however, promised to come
to the relief of the sufferers the next day if the weather should be
more favourable.
This was the fifth day that these wretched men had passed without food
of any kind except the disgusting morsel they had attempted to
swallow. Many who were completely exhausted, stretched their weary
limbs on the hard rocks and expired, and before night the greater
part of the survivors were in a state of complete insensibility.
On the sixth morning they were scarcely able to raise themselves from
the rock to look once more upon the sea, when one less feeble than the
rest exclaimed, 'the boats are coming.' And most welcome was the sight
of four fishing vessels, and the whale-boat steering towards them.
Such joy was theirs as can only be understood by those who have
experienced a similar deliverance from the jaws of death. The boats
reached the rocks; they contained a supply of water and food, which
were distributed in moderation among the perishing seamen, who, when
they were a little renovated, were taken on board the boats, and in a
few hours landed on Cerigotto.
The poor but hospitable inhabitants of the island received the
strangers most kindly, and tended them with the utmost care. Out of
one hundred and twenty-two, sixty-four only survived. And when we
think of the complicated miseries they had so long endured, we may
wonder that so many were spared.
After remaining eleven days at Cerigotto, the remnant of the crew of
the Nautilus went to Cerigo, and from thence they sailed to Malta.
Lieutenant Nesbitt and the survivors were tried by a court-martial at
Cadiz for the loss of the Nautilus.
The court gave it as their opinion, 'That the loss of that sloop was
occasioned by the captain's zeal to forward the public dispatches,
which induced him to run in a dark, tempestuous night for the passage
between the Island of Cerigotto and Candia; but that the sloop passed
between Cerigotto and Pauri, and was lost on a rock, on the south-west
part of that passage, which rock does not appear to be laid down in
Heather's Chart, by which the said sloop was navigated.
'That no blame attaches to the conduct of Lieutenant Nesbitt, or such
of the surviving crew of the Nautilus, but that it appears that
Lieutenant Nesbitt and the officers and crew did use every exertion
that circumstances could admit.'
Lieutenant Nesbitt died in 1824.