We have now to relate the painful statement of a wreck, which was not
only one of the most disastrous, but the most disgraceful in its
consequences, of any that we have had to describe.
Unfortunately, the loss of the ship is not the darkest side of the
picture; and the insubordination of the crew of the Penelope in the
hour of danger was as fatal to themselves as it was rare in its
occurrence.
The Penelope, troop-ship, Commander James Galloway, sailed from
Spithead for Canada on the 31st of March, 1815, and had a favourable
passage to the Banks of Newfoundland. Here she fell in with large
masses of ice, fogs, and strong south-east winds, so that the captain
considered it unsafe to run in for the land until the weather cleared
up. On the 24th of April, they made the Island of Mequilon, and at the
same time encountered a very heavy gale from the north-west. On the
following day they were surrounded with ice, and were frozen up for
nearly twelve hours. When the ice gave way, all sail was set, and the
ship entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and for the next few days she
continued her course in a north-easterly direction, and passed between
the Islands of Brion and Magdalen. The frost during this time was so
severe, that the furled sails were frozen into a solid body.
On the 29th, they met with large quantities of field ice, which gave
the sea the appearance of one entire sheet of ice, but it was not
strong enough to stop the ship's way. In the afternoon of that day,
the land about Cape Rozier, on the coast of Lower Canada, was visible.
On the 30th, the weather was more moderate, though cloudy; at noon
they steered an eastward course, until the ship broke off about three
points, when at sunset they tacked, and stood in for the land, which
was set by the first lieutenant and the master, at three or four
leagues distance.
At eight o'clock, they sounded in seventy-one fathoms; the vessel
broke off to the west by north, and the captain ordered the master to
go round the ship, and caution the men forward to keep a good look
out,--at the same time desiring him on no account to leave the deck.
The captain then sent for the first-lieutenant into his cabin, and was
in the act of pointing out to him the supposed situation of the vessel
on the chart; the line was at the same moment passing forward for
another cast of the lead, when the ship took the ground.
'I cannot describe my feelings,' writes Captain Galloway, 'at that
moment; for having, for a long time, been almost deprived of my
eyesight by night, and also afflicted with rheumatic pains and other
complaints, I was unable to judge correctly of the extent of our
danger.' The helm was immediately put down, and the sails thrown
aback. One boat was then hoisted out to sound, and found two and a
half fathoms forward, and about three and a half fathoms aft, having
six fathoms a little on the starboard quarter.
All the boats were immediately lowered, and the stream-anchor and
cable, with part of the messenger bent on to it, stowed in the
pinnace, which, from the strength of the current, was with great
difficulty towed to leeward by the other boats, and dropped into five
and a-half fathoms water.
On heaving round, the anchor came home, which it continued to do until
more than half of the cable was run in, when it held fast, but without
altering the position of the vessel. The captain then gave orders to
heave overboard the guns, and cut away the anchors from the bows; but
all these attempts to lighten the vessel were of no avail. The wind,
which had been moderate when she first struck, had increased to a
gale, and the ship beat with such violence upon the rocks, that it
appeared impossible that she could hold together many hours.
In this condition they were obliged to remain until daylight, exposed
to a cold north-east wind, and a pitiless storm of sleet and snow. The
officers did all in their power to sustain the courage of the men, but
unfortunately in many instances without success. Already symptoms of
insubordination had exhibited themselves, several had skulked below to
their hammocks, where they remained in defiance of every command and
entreaty of their officers.
The topmasts were got over side to shore the ship up, but the motion
was so violent that the lashings gave way. At daylight, as the weather
did not moderate, and there was no prospect of saving the ship, orders
were given to get up the provisions. This, however, had been delayed
until it was too late; the water had risen over the orlop deck, and in
a short time gained the lower deck. All that was saved was thirty bags
of biscuits, and these so damaged by the salt water, that they were
totally unfit for use.
The masts were about this time cut away, in order to ease the ship as
much as possible; they fell towards the shore about a cable's length
from the beach. The master was sent in the cutter to try to fasten a
rope to the shore, but the surf ran so high that the boat was stove,
and the crew with difficulty gained the beach.
In this condition, with very little prospect of saving the lives of
the crew, the captain, anxious for the preservation of the public
dispatches, entrusted them to the purser, who, with Captain Moray
(aide-de-camp to Lieut. General Sir George Murray), in charge of the
military dispatches, embarked in the life-boat, to which a small line
was attached. They had, however, no better success than the other
boat, for as soon as they reached the surf, the boat capsized, and the
two officers swam to the shore with the dispatches tied round their
necks.
Another cutter was then sent off in hopes that she would be more
successful, but she filled almost immediately; and the rope which was
fastened to her was obliged to be abandoned.
By this time it was impossible to stand upon the deck, the sea made a
fair breach over the ship, and the water having rushed into the cabin,
the few bags of bread that had been stowed there for protection were
destroyed.
The captain being unable from ill health to make any great exertion to
save his life, was lowered into the pinnace, into which were already
crowded as many men as she could hold, and they took another rope on
board, to make a last attempt to form a communication with the shore.
The boat had scarcely left the side of the ship before a sea struck
and upset her. The captain, supported by two men, made his way through
the surf with great difficulty and got on shore, followed by the rest
of the boat's crew, who, some by swimming and others by help of oars
and spars, saved themselves from destruction. The gig was now the only
boat left on board; she was lowered from the stern, and the first and
second lieutenants, with eighteen men, jumped into her. They were all
fortunate enough to reach the shore, and some of the men gallantly
returned to the vessel, and succeeded in landing about twenty others.
Again, the gig repaired to the wreck, and took off some more of the
crew, but this time she was unfortunately upset in the surf, though no
lives were lost.
When the men left on the wreck saw themselves thus deprived of the
last chance of escape, they raised the most piteous cries for
assistance, although they knew that their comrades had no means of
affording it. It has been said that 'man is a bundle of
inconsistencies,' and here was a proof of the assertion. These were in
all probability the very men who had betaken themselves to their
hammocks a short time before, and had refused to assist in providing
for their own safety; they had disobeyed orders, and despised
discipline, and now we find them imploring others for that deliverance
which they had neglected to provide for themselves. Most of them had
been drinking the spirits, and were so stupified that they were
incapable of taking advantage of the floating spars and planks to
which they might have clung, and so gained the land.
By drunkenness the bed of the ocean has been rendered a foul and
gloomy charnel house, where the bones of thousands of our fellow-men
await the summons of the Archangel's trumpets, when 'the sea shall
give up her dead.' The reckless seamen, though unprepared for another
world, hurry themselves into the presence of their Judge, to meet the
drunkard's doom.
It has been related that upon one occasion, when the shipwreck of a
large packet seemed inevitable, the sailors grew tired of working at
the pumps, and shouted 'to the spirit-room!' They saw death staring
them in the face, and to drown their terror for the moment, they
desired to die drunk. A post-captain in the navy, who was on board the
packet, knowing what would be the result if they got at the spirits,
took his stand at the door of the spirit-room, with a pistol in each
hand, and declared in the most solemn manner, that he would shoot the
first man who attempted to enter. The men seeing themselves defeated,
returned to the pumps, and by the blessing of God, the vessel was
brought in safe with all her crew.[15]
Unfortunate as was the situation of the helpless creatures on the
wreck of the Penelope, it was only a few degrees more wretched than
that of the officers and men on the shore. They had been cast at the
base of a steep mountain, bruised and benumbed by the cold; their
clothes were actually freezing on their backs, and they were without
provisions of any kind. Their first care was to search for wood and
kindle fires, which they at last succeeded in doing, and then they
dried their clothes--but before they could derive any benefit from the
fire, the intensity of cold had caused many of them extreme suffering;
they were frost-bitten in the hands and feet, and several lost their
toes. Some of the people were employed in constructing a tent with
branches of trees and blankets, others were searching for provisions
and securing such articles as were washed on shore from the ship. In
the evening, they found about sixty pieces of pork,--and with this and
some melted snow they satisfied the cravings of hunger and thirst.
Later in the evening several casks of wine, which had been stowed in
the ward-room, were washed on shore; but this, which might have proved
a blessing to all, was seized by a party of the men,--who broke open
the casks and drank to such an excess that they fell asleep, and were
found almost frozen to death. During the whole of the day the unhappy
men upon the wreck had never ceased supplicating their more fortunate
comrades to go to their assistance, but this was impossible; no human
effort could save them. As night drew on, their cries were redoubled,
and were still heard far above the howling and roaring of the
tempest, when darkness had hidden the ill-fated vessel from view.
About twelve o'clock three fearful crashes were followed by a still
more fearful sound--the last agonized shriek of many perishing
creatures.
And then all was hushed,
Save the wild and remorseless dash
Of billows. BYRON.
At daylight, the remains of the Penelope were again visible, but in
three separate pieces; all that were left on board had perished, save
one man, who was washed on shore nearly lifeless.
The sufferings of these poor wretches must have been awful in the
extreme, for their agonies of mind appear to have surpassed those of
the body, and to have prolonged their lives by preventing them falling
into the torpor which precedes death from cold. So severe was the
frost, that the wreck had the appearance of huge masses of ice; and on
shore nothing but the very large fires that were kept burning could
have preserved the existence of the rest of the crew.
Upon the ship breaking up, the spirits floated on shore, when there
ensued such a scene of tumult and insubordination as, happily for the
honour of the service, seldom occurs in the British navy. The men
broke open the casks, and before the officers were aware of it,
scarcely a man was to be seen sober. This brought with it its own
punishment; many had drank to such a degree that they fell lifeless in
the snow. The officers then caused the remainder of the rum to be
stove, excepting a certain quantity placed under their own care; but
when discipline is once broken, it is not easily restored. The next
day, forty-eight men deserted, after plundering several of their
shipmates, and breaking open every trunk that was washed up. These
paid the penalty of their crimes, for many of them were found dead in
the woods by the Canadians.
We cannot do better than take up the account which is thus given by
one of the surviving officers:--
'With the remaining part of the crew the boats were hauled up, which
we began to repair the best way we could. Sails were made from a lower
and topmast studding-sail, which were fortunately washed ashore; a
cask of flour was also found, a part of which was made into dough, and
preparations were made to proceed to Quebec.
'On the third day, a Canadian boat was passing, when the captain
ordered her to be detained to proceed to that port. With the
assistance of the cooking utensils found in the Canadian boat, all the
pork that could be found was cooked and served out to the different
boats, which was a very short allowance for two days.
'On the sixth day of our misery, the weather moderated, the boats were
launched, and all hands embarked; sixty-eight persons in all,
including two women. The wind was favourable, but light; with rowing
and sailing, we got to Great Fox River that night, at which place we
were hospitably entertained with potatoes and salt at a Canadian hut.
Next morning we sailed for Gasper Bay, and reached Douglas Town in the
evening.
'The captain and officers were accommodated at Mr. Johnston's, and the
crew lodged at the different huts around the place. After three days'
rest, we walked nine miles over the ice to where the transports lay;
leaving the sick at Douglas Town. The captain hoisted his pendant on
board the Ann, transport, and put a lieutenant in each of the others,
and an equal number of men. When the ice broke up, which was seven
days after we got on board, we dropped down to Douglas Town, and
embarked the sick, one of whom died, and two deserted. The next
morning we sailed for Quebec, where we arrived on the 28th, many of us
not having a change of clothes of any description.'
In concluding the above narrative of the loss of this vessel, we will
quote the language of Captain Galloway, who thus deprecates, in strong
terms, the disgraceful conduct of the majority of the crew of the
Penelope:--'I feel it my duty,' he says, 'to state to you the infamous
conduct of the whole of the crew, with a very few exceptions. From the
time that the ship struck, their behaviour was not in the character of
British seamen in general; they had neither principle nor humanity;
some, in consequence, have suffered severely, and several died from
drunkenness.'
Captain Galloway died in 1846.