HMS _Seringapatam_, Captain Leith, was lying off the island of Antigua,
in August 1838, when, on Sunday, the 26th of that month, eight of her
officers, three of whom were youngsters, and all belonging to the
midshipmen's berth, with a gentleman, a resident in the island, and two
seamen, started away from the ship in a pinnace on a cruise. Their
intention was to go down to Falmouth Bay, situated about two miles to
leeward of English Harbour, where the ship was, and to beat back. The
afternoon was very fine, and everything seemed to promise them a
pleasant excursion. Having spent a short time in Falmouth Harbour, they
hauled their wind, and made three or four tacks on their way back to the
ship. The boat, however, made little or nothing to windward, in
consequence of the wind being very light. Forgetful of the sudden
squalls which visit those latitudes, the merry party of young officers
seemed to have kept but a bad look-out to windward; for, while standing
in on the starboard tack, the boat was taken by a sudden squall. The
helm was put down; but the boat not coming up to the wind so as to lift
the sails, she was capsized under every stitch of canvas. She, however,
went over so gradually, that all hands had time to creep to windward and
seat themselves on the gunwale. The sails prevented her from turning
bottom up, and at the same time protected them in some measure from the
breaking of the sea. What seems very extraordinary is, that not one of
the party, officers or seamen, had a knife in his pocket, so that they
had no means of cutting away the rigging and righting the boat. As soon
as they had settled themselves on the side of the boat, they had time to
look about them, and to consider their perilous position. They were
fully two miles from the shore, whence it was scarcely possible anyone
should have observed the accident, and they were an equal distance or
more from the ship; thus the current might carry them far away before
anyone could come to their assistance. A sea might get up and wash them
off the wreck; or sharks might attack and devour them, for the boat's
gunwale was only six inches awash. Not a sail was in sight; and all
felt convinced that if some unforeseen assistance did not come to their
aid, they must perish. Despair was well-nigh taking possession of the
bosoms of all the party. Silent and melancholy they sat on the wreck,
meditating on their fate. All were young. Life, with all its fancied
charms and anticipated pleasure, had a few short moments previously been
before them; and now, death in all its terrors--slow, lingering, and
agonising--stared them in the face. One only of the whole party was a
good swimmer, Mr W.R. Smith, and he was a very bold and strong one.
He looked at the shore: two miles was a long distance to swim, with a
full consciousness, too, that those deep waters swarm with those
terrific monsters of the deep, the seamen's just dread--the hideous,
shark. "Well," said Smith at last, looking wistfully at the distant
shore, "I feel that I ought to try, as it is the only chance of saving
all hands; and I think I could have managed it if I had had but a
companion, but it's a long way to go alone through the silent water."
"If that is your only reason, Smith, why, I will try and keep you
company," said Palmes, another midshipman, who had hitherto sat silent,
not complaining like some of the rest. "I am not much of a swimmer, and
I don't feel as if I could ever get to shore. However, it's a good
cause, and I'll do my best." Thus it was speedily settled, for there
was no time to be lost. The two noble adventurers, having bid farewell
to their shipmates, whom Palmes, at all events, never expected to see
again, threw off their jackets and shoes, and struck away together from
the wreck. The prayers of those they left behind followed them, for the
safety of all depended on their success. Smith swam steadily and
strongly, and Palmes made amends for his want of strength and skill by
his courage and spirit. Still, before they got half-way to the shore,
the courage of one of them was to be sorely tried. As Smith swam along,
he felt his legs strike against something, and, looking down into the
clear water, he saw, to his horror, two enormous sharks swimming past
him. As yet they had not noticed him; and fortunate was it for both of
the brave fellows that they had kept on their trousers and socks, for
had the monsters seen the white flesh of their naked feet, they would to
a certainty have fixed on them as their prey. With admirable presence
of mind, Smith kept this dreadful fact to himself, lest the knowledge of
it should still further unnerve his companion, who already was almost
exhausted by his exertions. At this time they were still full a mile
from the shore, which, to their anxious eyes, appeared still farther
off. "Smith, my dear fellow," exclaimed Palmes, "I can swim no farther.
Do you push on, and leave me to my fate."
"Not I, my lad," answered Smith. "Cheer up, man; we'll yet do well.
Here, rest on me for a time; but don't cease striking out." Suiting the
action to the word, he came alongside and supported his companion; but
he did not tell him why he urged him to keep striking out. Again they
struck out together, and Palmes seemed somewhat recovered; but once more
his strength forsook him, and he fancied himself incapable of
proceeding. Still Smith did not lose courage; but he saw the necessity
of keeping their limbs moving, lest the dreadful sharks should be
tempted to lay hold of them. Palmes had fully as much moral courage as
his companion, but he was his inferior in physical strength; yet,
feeling that not only his own life and that of Smith, but that of their
nine fellow-creatures remaining on the wreck, depended on their reaching
the shore, nerved him to further exertions.
Those only who have swam for their lives, when the arms have begun to
ache, the knees refuse to bend, and the breath grows short, can tell the
feelings of the two gallant young men, but more especially those of the
brave Palmes. Spurred on by Smith, each time that he grew faint and
weary, he nerved himself for fresh exertions. At last, as they strained
their eyes ahead, the shore seemed to come nearer and nearer. They
could distinguish the sandy beach and the green herbage beyond. On a
sudden, before even he expected it, Smith felt his foot touch the shore.
With a joyful exclamation of thankfulness, he grasped Palmes by the
hand, and aided him to wade on to the dry land. No sooner had they
emerged from the water, than, overcome with fatigue, poor Palmes sank
down on the beach, where he lay for some time unable to move. We fain
would believe--nay, we are certain--that they both offered up in their
hearts a silent thanksgiving to the Great Being who had thus mercifully
preserved them from the perils of the deep. But the gallant Smith,
while rejoicing in his own preservation and that of his friend, did not
forget the shipmates he had left floating on the wreck. As soon as he
had recovered sufficient strength to move, he hurried off to the nearest
habitation, to give information of the accident, and to procure a boat
to go to their assistance. Already much time had been lost. It was
half-past four when the accident occurred, and they had been two hours
in reaching the shore, so that darkness was now rapidly approaching,
which, of course, would increase the difficulty of finding the wreck.
The instant Palmes was able to move, he also got up and went in search
of a boat. He procured one, with a crew to man it, while Smith took
charge of another; and they immediately started in search of their
shipmates. Meantime information of the sad accident had been conveyed
on board the _Seringapatam_. The kind heart of the captain was much
grieved when he heard of it, for he could not but fear that the
remainder of the party had perished. From him, downwards to the
smallest boy in the ship, everybody was most painfully anxious about
them. He instantly despatched boats in all directions to search for the
missing party. All sorts of reports were flying about on board; and as
sharks were known to abound, it was feared by the seamen that they might
have destroyed their young shipmates. The night also became very bad:
the wind rose, and threatened to increase; the sea got up with it, thick
clouds collected, and the white-topped waves added to the gloominess of
the night, while the rain came down in torrents, and the lightning burst
forth in sharp and vivid flashes, increasing the dangers to be
apprehended. The boats of the _Seringapatam_ took different directions,
each officer commanding shaping the course he thought most likely to
bring him up to the wreck. Some of the searching boats went in a wrong
direction altogether, being misled by a pilot as to the direction the
current took. Hour after hour passed by, and no sign of the wreck was
perceived; and both those on board, and many of those in the boats,
began to despair of success. As they looked out through the darkness,
they fancied they could hear the voices of their shipmates at a
distance, imploring aid, or that they saw their figures on the bottom of
the boat amid the surrounding gloom. We shall, however, follow the
_Seringapatam's_ barge, commanded by her gunner. He knew the set of the
current; and, as soon as he shoved off from the ship's side, he ran
directly down to leeward along the coast, at the distance he understood
the boat had been capsized, he being thus better able to calculate the
direction in which she would have drifted. His purpose was then to beat
back again, thus entirely covering the ground where the wreck must be.
On his way down he fell in with the shore-boat, commanded by Mr Smith,
who, at once approving of his plan, joined him in the search. By their
calculations, the boat would have drifted some five or six miles to
leeward, and would be drawn rather off shore. They were right; and
about the very place where they expected, she was discerned still
floating as Smith had left her. With anxious hearts they pulled up to
her. Five only of the nine were seen still clinging to her. The other
four had too probably given themselves up to despair. The crew of the
barge cheered, and were answered with a faint hail from those they had
come to save, almost sinking from exhaustion. "Where are the rest?"
exclaimed Smith, as he saw their diminished numbers. "Only a short
distance inshore of us," was the answer. "They have not left the wreck
five minutes."
"Alas! but in those five minutes the poor fellows may have sunk fathoms
down, or been grasped by the jaws of the hungry sharks," thought Smith,
as he instantly pulled away in the direction indicated.
His four shipmates were found not far apart, each of them lashed to an
oar, and striking out as well as they could for the shore; but, strange
to say, only one of them could swim at all.
It was then past nine o'clock, making nearly five hours that the poor
fellows had held on to the boat, with all the horrors of death staring
them in the face; for of course they were not aware that Smith and
Palmes had reached the shore, and indeed had begun to fear that they
were already numbered with the dead. Their pleasure, and--we believe,
their gratitude--was increased when they discovered that both had
escaped, and had been the means under Providence of preserving their
lives.
Their sufferings had been very great. When the storm came on, they
expected every moment to be washed from the wreck; and, to add to their
horrors, a shark had been for most of the time lying between the masts
of the pinnace, his fiery eyes glaring up at them, and watching them, as
about soon to become his prey. Had it not, indeed, been for Smith's
coolness and skill as a swimmer, and for the generous daring of Palmes,
in all human probability every soul must have perished. The
circumstances we have narrated having been represented to the Royal
Humane Society, the silver medallion of the Society, with a
complimentary letter, was sent out, and presented on the quarter-deck of
the _Seringapatam_, by Captain Leith, to each of the two young officers,
in the presence of the whole ship's company,--a suitable and gratifying
reward for their gallantry, in addition to that their own consciences
could not fail to afford.
Some years after the events I have just described, Mr W.R. Smith,
having reached the rank of lieutenant, belonged to HMS _Endymion_. On
the 4th of February 1847, she was at anchor off Sacraficios Island, near
Vera Cruz. The night of the 4th was excessively dark, and a strong
current was running past the ship, when Mr West, mate, slipped his foot
from the gangway, and fell into the sea, striking his head against the
ship's side. On the cry of "A man overboard!" which was instantly
raised, Lieutenant W.R. Smith and others rushed on deck; but, owing to
the excessive darkness and the strong current, no object could at first
be seen floating. At length something white was perceived at a
distance, when Lieutenant Smith immediately plunged into the water, and
struck rapidly out towards it. On reaching the object, he found it to
be Mr West, who was lying quite motionless, though, from his head
sinking under water, he would speedily have been deprived of life.
Lieutenant Smith at once raised his head above water, and kept him
floating until by repeatedly calling he attracted a boat to his
assistance, when he and his companion were carried on board. The crew
were thickly clustering on the rigging to see them return, and from
among them another man missed his footing and fell overboard from the
main-chains. Mr Smith, who saw the accident, not knowing whether the
man could swim, instantly plunged in again to his assistance, but found,
on reaching him, that he was perfectly able to keep himself afloat till
the boat could arrive to pick him up.